More Pain Than I Can Bear
by SiriusBlack4Ever
Summary: The summer after his fifth year, Harry feels depressed, hollow, burdened, and alone. He finally decides to take action and deal with all of this, though it's not in the most positive way. -WARNING- Scenes of cutting in this story - read at your own risk!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story was my first chaptered one, and can be found on the HPFanFiction site found on my Bio. But like my other stories, I'm updating it here as well. However, I'm going to space out these chapters as I upload them, even though they're already all written, and there's even a sequel to it. If you can't wait, like I said, check out my other FanFiction page. But if you'd like to wait for each chapter as I upload it, feel free to do so. Also, as I mentioned in the summary, this story has scenes of cutting, some of which get pretty graphic in the chapters to come, so if you're not into that stuff, I'd advise you to stop now._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series. However, J. K. Rowling does, so if you'd like to buy purchasing rights to them, talk to her._

More Pain Than I Can Bear

Written by SiriusBlack4Ever

Chapter 1

Harry was lying on the cold, hard floor of his room in Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He had a book propped open in front of him, but he hadn't even read one word out of it for the past hour. He wasn't even looking at it anymore. He was just staring at the wooden boards on the floor in front of him, deep in thought.

He was thinking about nothing and something. He was thinking about happy things and sad things. He was plainly just thinking about anything and everything, all at once, and his mind was quite full of thoughts. He was remembering things from as far back as to when he was a toddler, to things that had happened just recently, like what he had had for breakfast that morning. Or rather, what he didn't have for breakfast that morning.

-o-

Even as he sat at the kitchen table at seven o'clock in the morning, he couldn't help but think. His mind had been working constantly since he had returned to school after the incident at the Department of Mysteries, and it just never seemed to stop. He was constantly thinking, and this left little time for things such as meals.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley had asked him that morning, her voice etched with worry. "You haven't eaten much since you arrived here a few nights ago, and you're looking rather peaky."

"What?" Harry asked, a bit confused. "Oh, sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I wasn't paying attention. What were you saying?"

"Harry, is there something wrong?" she asked him, the worry becoming stitched deeper into her voice now.

"No, Mrs. Weasley," he told her absentmindedly. "I'm just thinking."

"It's impossible to do so much thinking on an empty stomach," she told him.

"Quite frankly, Mrs. Weasley, that isn't true," Harry told her, his eyes staring off into space. "For there are six impossible things before breakfast, and thinking does not happen to be one of them."

Mrs. Weasley looked very confused by this, and wasn't exactly sure what to say. Harry wasn't sure where he had got that from – he thought that it was from some muggle book, but he couldn't remember. He hadn't read books for so long, it was hard to recall. Of course, he couldn't really expect much more; lately, he hadn't remembered anything except for the thoughts that were constantly running through his mind. He had even forgotten Ron's name once, calling him Percy, which caused Ron to create an uproar.

Harry didn't feel like eating anything, and he certainly didn't feel like having to sit under the stare of Mrs. Weasley for so long, so he just stood up and attempted to leave.

"Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Weasley, it was wonderful," he told her as he grabbed the door handle to leave the kitchen.

"But, Harry dear, you didn't eat anything," she told him, her voice becoming almost ecstatic. "Are you sure you're feeling well? You really should eat someth-"

But Harry was out of the door before she could finish. He didn't need to hear what she was going to say; he already knew what it was anyway, so he thought he'd save himself a few extra minutes to think.

He slowly made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, one that he didn't share with Ron anymore. In fact, Harry was now staying in Sirius' old room. Whether this was helping him or hurting him, he wasn't sure, since he didn't think much about where he was staying.

He was so deep in thought as he walked up the stairs, that he didn't notice the other person walking down them. He collided with them, and painfully flew back down the last few steps that he had just climbed, landing smack dab with his back on the floor.

"Potter!" the person said, their voice unnaturally silky and arrogant. Before he even looked up, Harry knew who was speaking to him.

Looking up into his Potion Master's face, he confirmed his assumption. Severus Snape was standing right in front of him, his eyes alight with malice, his teeth practically seething.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said absentmindedly, trying to ignore the pain that was now shooting up and down his spine. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"That," Snape said, "is obvious."

Harry looked into his cold, onyx black eyes. How could he stand there and talk to him like that, knowing exactly what had happened to him just a few weeks before? Harry suddenly felt almost as much hatred towards him as he did towards Bellatrix the night that she killed Sirius – the hate that had been growing inside of him ever since.

"Go to Hell!" he yelled at Snape, standing up painfully and walking past him. But he had barely gone a foot when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder, its nails digging painfully into his skin.

Snape wheeled Harry around to face him, and his eyes looked even more menacing than they had a second ago.

"What did you just say to me, Potter?" he asked, his voice deathly quiet.

"I told you to go to Hell," Harry told him sternly, not wincing one bit, though the hand still dug into his shoulder and his back was aching from the position that he was standing in.

Snape suddenly shoved him against the wall, making the portraits on it rattle and bounce. Harry, though for a moment felt scared, felt unusually calm all of a sudden, and just glared at Snape.

"You will never speak to me that way," Snape spat. "I am your Professor, and although we are not in school, I can still punish you."

"Oh?" Harry asked sarcastically. "And what are you going to do – tell on me?"

Snape looked ready to spit venom. "You have no idea the things that I can do, Potter," he whispered dangerously.

"And you have no idea what I can do," Harry told him, to which Snape scowled. "I bet you didn't know that I've performed the Cruciatus Curse before, did you?"

Snape's eyes looked slightly shocked.

"Yup, it's true," Harry told him, still glaring. "Of course, what did you expect me to do? Bellatrix had just killed my godfather, and I wasn't just going to let her get away with that. Oh no, I had to make her realize just how much it had affected me; just how much I hated her."

Harry's eyes suddenly clouded over, and Snape became steadily more shocked.

"You used the Cruciatus Curse?" he asked him. "On Bella?"

Harry's eyes became focused all of a sudden, and he twitched as though being doused by a bucket of cold water. "What did you call her?" he asked, to which Snape looked slightly more shocked again. He seemed to realize that he had just called her Bella, something that the Dark Lord had always called her.

Harry suddenly grew very red in the face, and his eyes snapped shut, just as the hands were instantly removed from his shoulders, with Snape shrieking in pain. Harry knew exactly what had happened this time – he had done magic, and he had used it on one of his Professors. But right now, he didn't seem to care. And as Snape stopped shaking his raw, red hands, and came stalking towards him, Harry just stood there, not flinching at all.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Snape asked, this time pinning him against the wall by grabbing his lower arms instead. "Why, I ought to-"

"Kill me?" Harry asked coolly. Snape's look faltered a bit, and he opened his mouth to speak, but again Harry cut him off.

"That's what you wanted to do, isn't it?" Harry asked him, hate behind every word. "You want to kill me, don't you? Kill me and bring me to your master, so that you can be his little second-in-command, right? Well, sorry to bust you bubble, but guess what? You can't."

Harry finished with Snape looking at him with shock and interest. However, he must have realized what he was doing, for he quickly returned to glaring at Harry like normal. "I assure you that, if I wanted to, I could kill you right here, right now," he breathed.

Harry just laughed in his face, which made Snape's pale, sallow skin become a light magenta in color.

"You think you can kill me?" Harry asked, still laughing evilly. "Well, guess what – you can't! Voldemort is the only one who can kill me – the most you can do is cause pain upon me!"

Here, Harry began to laugh really hard, his eyes shutting and his body swaying as each bit of laughter escaped his mouth. He suddenly understood how Sirius felt when Peter had blown up the street and escaped – the situation was so unbelievable, and so far-fetched, that you couldn't help but laugh.

Between the laughter, Harry looked up at a surprised Snape and said, "So, if you want, go ahead. Hit me. Smack me. Punch me. Do whatever. Use the Cruciatus Curse if you want, because that's the best you can do. In fact," he added. "I would welcome all of that. A little pain to ease me right now would feel quite nice. I've felt it before, and I hated it. But now, I have so much pain in me, I think I may just welcome a little more – a little more just to make me completely fill up and explode. My, that does sound nice."

Harry had no idea where these words were coming from – he just said them. They floated into his mind and out of his mouth without a trace of thought. Snape was still looking extremely flustered and shocked, and as Harry started laughing harder, he let go of his arms and slowly backed up. Harry took this chance to taunt him some more.

"I bet you think I'm insane know, huh?" he asked, the laughter still present. "Well, maybe I am. I'm not sure, though. I have never been insane before. You'll have to tell me what it's like so that I know if this is what I'm feeling or not."

Snape seemed too shocked to say anything, so Harry, bounding over with laughter, just made his way to his room.

-o-

It had now been nearly an hour since he had ran into Snape, and his giggles had long subsided. Now, he was back to thinking. Thinking about the most random things in the whole world. His back was now seething in pain, and the marks on his shoulders from where Snape had grabbed him were oozing out tiny droplets of blood. He had attempted to clear his mind by picking up a book for the first time in a few weeks, but had not read anything in it yet.

He was still pondering what had happened; he ran into Snape, he yelled at Snape, Snape grabbed him, Harry used wandless magic, Snape had his wand on him, Harry told him to hurt him in whatever way he wanted, Snape backed off, he himself had laughed...

None of this seemed to want to register the right way in his mind. It seemed like someone was just telling him all of this and it was going in one ear and out the other. He really needed to talk, but didn't want to talk to anyone. No one understood him; not even Lupin. Yes, Lupin had lost Sirius too, but Harry had loved Sirius in a way that Lupin never could: Harry had loved Sirius like a father.

Fresh tears came to his eyes as he thought of this; he hadn't cried at all since that night in Dumbledore's office. He had restrained himself from letting anything out of him, anything at all. He didn't want to have people hugging him and holding him out of pity – he wanted them to do it only if they meant it. And he knew that if he had started crying, everyone would be all over him about it, doing just that and only pitying him.

He hated their pity; he didn't want it unless they meant it. So, he had kept everything in, and had, for the most part, ignored everyone. At first, they tried to get him to talk, to tell them what was wrong. But they had stopped that now; they knew he was stubborn, and wouldn't talk until he was ready, so they let him be. Harry personally wasn't sure that he would ever get over this, or would ever talk to anyone about it all, but decided to be thankful that they were just leaving him alone.

However, he was now feeling like he had to just spill; just let all of his feelings out. And since there wasn't anyone to talk to, he just cried. All of the things that he had been feeling for the past few weeks suddenly came pouring out of him, and he sat their, curled up in the corner of the room, crying.

His body shook with the sobs that came all the way from his stomach and out his mouth, sounding strong and guttural. His chest heaved with the emotion that came out with gasping breaths. He was scared, alone. He didn't know what to do, or who to go to. He was just there; he just existed. He felt like he had been Kissed by a Dementor; living, but without a soul.

The holes on his shoulder from where Snape had grabbed him must have been deep, because they were still slightly bleeding, and he could feel them soaking through all of his clothes. He reached up a shaking hand to touch his robes, and felt the damp, soft fabric under his fingers. Somehow, he felt comforted by this.

He wasn't sure what next possessed him to do what he did, but the point was, he did it. He had somehow taken his shaking body over to his open trunk at the foot of his bed, and had rummaged around it until he could see the bottom. There, atop old papers and a few pairs of old, worn-out socks, were pieces of gleaming, reflecting glass: the remains of the mirror that Sirius had given him.

Tears still flying freely down his cheeks, he pushed up the sleeve on his left arm, and then grabbed a piece of the shimmering glass. Then, ever so carefully, he neatly slid the sharpest edge of the glass over his wrist, carving into his own skin.

He almost screamed with pain – it had hurt like Hell - but he bit his inner lip and shut his eyes, focusing only on his wrist. He could feel the pain, and slowly, as it faded away, he realized that when he did this, the pain was the only thing that he was thinking about. Everything about Sirius and what had happened was erased from his mind, and he could be left to focus on the burning sensation on his wrist.

He quickly clasped the jagged object more tightly in his hand, and ran it over his wrist a second time, this time going even deeper into the skin. He winced at the pain, and again had to bite the inside of his lip and shut his eyes to keep himself from screaming. But still, he focused on the pain, the blood oozing out of his wrist; something he was willing to give up in order to escape from this hole in his life.

Over and over again, he ran the glass over his wrist, more blood pouring from the wound each time. His robes were soaked with the red liquid, as well as the tears that were still flowing down his cheeks. He lifted his hand to his face, trying to wipe the sweat off of it that was now mixing with his tears, and ended up smearing blood on his forehead.

As he made to "tattoo" his wrist some more, a few tears entered his mouth, filling it with a strange salty taste mixed with blood and sweat. He continued cutting his wrist, until the wound was about an inch deep into his skin, and was just about to swipe the blade over it again when his door opened.

"I can't believe you used magic on Snape, Harry! Even under the circumstances, it still-"

Then there was a scream.

_Ooh...the drama! Anyway, like always, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please let me know what you think of it! I may be updating chapters daily, so look tomorrow for the new one._

_Kudos,_

_SiriusBlack4Ever_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, the next chapter is up! Just to let you all know, there are nine chapters total to this story, and there is, as I mentioned, a sequel as well. So for all of you that like this story, you've still got quite a ways to go.

Disclaimer: I do own copies of the Harry Potter books, but I don't own the rights to the Harry Potter books. Quite depressing, really...  
  
Chapter 2

Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione standing in his doorway, both of their eyes shocked, Hermione's mouth still open from the last words that she had tried to say. Harry's eyes were also wide. He could only imagine what he looked like; his eyes were full of tears that were falling down his cheeks with sweat; red smears on his forehead; his shoulder still damp, but yet hard from the dried blood on it; his robes red and drooping with the liquid; and his wrists – his wrists he knew were what were the worst.

He looked down at them himself, trying not to make eye contact with the two, and saw the deep gash that he had made there. Blood was still pouring from the cut, making his clothes and the floor continually more wet. The blood had turned from a bright red to a darker maroon, and he was feeling slightly light-headed.

He looked back up at Ron and Hermione, and all of his memories started flooding back, as quickly and as smoothly as the blood flowing from his wrist. He wanted to cut himself again, to forget, but the looks Ron and Hermione were giving him now made him reconsider. He was just staring up at them, waiting for them to do something. Apparently, they were waiting for the same thing from him.

Harry heard sudden, quick footsteps pounding up the stairs behind them, and soon saw Lupin and Snape standing there. They walked in the room, and Lupin was about to say something, when he spotted Harry. His eyes grew as round as Ron and Hermione's, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Snape seemed to do the same thing.

Harry couldn't stand to meet any of their gazes, so he just looked down at the glass in his hand. This didn't help, however, as the need to cut himself just grew more with every glare the mirror gave off in the light. Lupin must have sensed this, for he finally spoke up, although he wasn't at all comforting.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing, Harry?" he said, his voice breaking, though still very stern. His eyes had almost a pleading look to them, and Harry felt a pang of guilt. He had never seen Lupin loose his composure like this before; he had always been calm, even after Sirius' death. Harry didn't know what to say to him, so he just diverted his gaze back to his wrists again. This wasn't good enough for Lupin, however.

"Harry James Potter, look at me when I'm talking to you!" he yelled, and Harry instantly looked up. No one ever used his full name, and when Lupin said it, he felt slightly scared. Lupin almost glared at him.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing?" he asked again. "Do you have any idea what it is you're really doing to yourself?"

Looking back down at his hands, Harry nodded. He heard his friends gasp, and heard the faint sound of Hermione's hand cupping over her mouth.

"You know what it is you're doing?" Lupin asked him, the worry still etched into his voice. Again, Harry just nodded. The mirror was looking ever more pleasing, and it was taking all of his self-control to restrain himself from cutting his wrist again.

"Harry, why?" came Hermione's shaking voice from the door. Harry reluctantly looked up at her, and said, "Because."

"Because why, Harry?" Lupin asked him. Harry looked down at his hands again.

"Because, that's why," he told them all.

"Potter, don't be so arrogant," Snape suddenly spat. Harry looked up at him with more hatred than before, and he felt like he wanted to take the blade in his hand and chuck it at Snape's pale, greasy face.

"Shut up!" he told Snape, and everyone in the room gasped. "I've had enough of your shit, and I don't need anymore of it - especially not now!"

As he finished his sentence, he looked back at his hands for what seemed like the thousandth time, and tears suddenly started to pour from his eyes again. They were like rushing waterfalls that were quickly cascading over his cheeks.

Although he wasn't looking at them, he could feel everyone's eyes on him, and since they weren't doing anything to help him, he raised the shard in his hand again and violently swiped it across his wrist, almost feeling the bone beneath it.

Hermione screamed – Ron yelled – Snape gasped in shock – and Lupin ran forward and seized the small blade out of Harry's hands. Harry struggled to get it back.

"Give me it!" he screamed, reaching for the glittering object that Lupin was holding back from him.

"No!" Lupin yelled, and he flung it to the other side of the room. Harry made to get up and scramble after it, but Lupin grabbed him around the waist and held him back

"Let go of me!" Harry yelled, trying to break free of his hold. Lupin just held tighter. Harry thrashed around in his arms, until a sudden feeling of déjà vu came over him. He was suddenly reminded of that night in the Department of Mysteries, when Sirius had gone through the veil and Lupin had restrained him.

Harry softly slumped to the ground, still in Lupin's arms, and started to sob uncontrollably again. Lupin's strong hold became a soft embrace, and Harry just leaned into him, his dead weight pressed against Lupin's chest, his hands clinging to his old robes.

His wrist stung, and blood was still pouring freely from it. The thick, crimson liquid was seeping through his already wet robes, and was making its way to Lupin's tattered ones, staining them with the deep, rich color. Lupin placed his cheek gently on Harry's head, rubbing his back with his hands. A soft drop of water found its way through Harry's hair to his scalp, and he knew that Lupin was gently crying as well.

Harry heard a loud sob that wasn't his own, and then felt another pair of arms around his shaking body. He opened his eyes just a small bit, and saw Hermione's tear-struck face, her arms around him. He also saw Ron sitting next to him on the floor, his face as red as his hair, and his right hand gently resting on Harry's arm. Then Harry looked up at Snape, who was still standing in the same place that he had been when Harry had yelled at him.

He was looking down at Harry in complete shock; Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he had been petrified. His sallow skin had gone from its normal milky white to almost a deathly white. However, as soon as he saw that Harry was looking at him, he quickly glared again, and turned to leave the room. He clearly wasn't comfortable staying with Harry in a state like this, especially with three people hugging him.

"I'm going to go get Dumbledore," Snape muttered softly, to which Harry suddenly sat up bolt right, knocking Lupin's face off of his head and startling both Hermione and Ron.

"Ouch! Harry, what are you doing?" Lupin asked him, rubbing his chin where Harry had hit him. But Harry wasn't listening. He was staring at Snape, who had stopped in the doorway and was facing him, clearly waiting to see why he had made the sudden movement

"D-Dumbledore?" Harry stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Potter, Dumbledore," Snape said softly, his voice still a little menacing.

Harry just continued staring up at him, his eyes wide. "But, why? Why do you need to get him?" Harry asked him, his voice still barely above a whisper.

"Well, you'll obviously need to be healed from these – err, _cuts_," he said, emphasizing the cut part. "And he'll also need to be informed of this."

"No!" Harry said, his voice suddenly quite loud compared to the volume it had been before.

Snape looked at him with his eyebrows lowered. "What do you mean no, Potter? Of course he'll have to see you! Precious little Potter is in a delicate condition, and he'll want to know about it."

Suddenly, Harry was on his feet again, and he had his wand out in front of him, pointing at Snape, who looked surprised and a little alarmed. You didn't want to have someone like The-Boy-Who-Lived, who had faced the Dark Lord on five different occasions, and lived each time, pointing his wand at you – especially if he was capable of using the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry was staring daggers at Snape, and he was overwhelmed with such hatred toward him at the moment that he thought that, if he had tried it, he could have used the Killing Curse on Snape, and the Potion's Master would have been laying dead on the floor.

"Don't you make fun of me ever again!" he shouted at him, and Snape actually backed up a few steps. "I've had to live with five years of your shit, and up until now, I've taken it with few remarks to you. But now, you've gone too far!"

Snape, for the first time in Harry's life, actually looked quite alarmed. This made Harry feel slightly bolder, and he pressed on.

"Do you have any idea what I've been going through?" he asked Snape. "Do you?" When Snape refused to answer the question, Harry continued and answered it himself.

"Well, since you obviously don't, let me tell you," he said, his voice low and menacing, just like Snape's usually was, his eyes alight with malice. He began his story.

"Ever since I was one year old, I've always had a shitty life," he said. "My parents died when I was a year old, forcing me to live with my poor excuses for relatives, who made me cook and clean, and sleep in a cupboard for the first eleven years of my life. Then, I got accepted to Hogwarts. I thought that my life would be wonderful now, but it was far from that. In my first year, I faced Voldemort alone and had to keep him from getting the Sorcerer's Stone. In my second year, I not only had to face him again, but I also found out that I was a Parseltounge and had to live with the whole school hating me for the year." He paused to take a breath here before plowing on.

"In my third year, a murderer was supposedly after me, so I was forbidden to do almost everything – even go into Hogsmeade. I also had to face the Dementors, which tormented me horribly, because guess what? Every time I heard them, I heard Voldemort murdering my parents. I could here my mum screaming, pleading with him to let me live, my father telling her to run while Voldemort killed him. And I could hear Voldemort laughing."

Harry heard a soft noise behind him, and knew that it was Lupin, who had heard this before. However, Harry hadn't gone into as much detail then, and he didn't think that it was very pleasing for him to hear this. However, he knew he had to continue, so he did.

"Then, at the end of the year, I found out that this man who was trying to kill me was my godfather, and that he really wasn't the bad guy after all – it was really one of my parents other best friends. So I was offered the chance to live with my godfather. However, that was taken away from me, and I had to go back and live with the Dursley's that summer."

"Then the following year, I was entered into the Triwizard Tournament against my will, and had to go through all of that, as well as having the whole school hate me again. And then at the end of the year, I saw Cedric die, and Voldemort return."

Tears were now starting to pour down his cheeks again at the memory of Cedric, and Harry was having difficulty speaking. Snape was still looking at him with a bit of alarm in his face.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, the summer after I had dreams where I would see Cedric dying over and over again, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Plus, I had a friendly visit from a few of my Dementor friends, who almost killed both myself and my cousin, and who almost got me expelled from Hogwarts. And even after school started, things still didn't get better. I was banned from Quidditch, I was entering Voldemort's mind as well as having him enter mine, I had almost the whole school scared of me again, and I had to go to detentions with Umbridge where my hand was cut open every single night."

"Your hand was what?" Lupin asked suddenly, and Harry remembered that the only people who knew this were Ron and Hermione. But, Harry just held up a hand to silence him and went on. He knew he had said the majority of this to Ron and Hermione last year, but he wanted Snape to know exactly how much hell his life was made of.

"Yes, I had my hand cut open every detention. Anyway, at the end of the year, to top everything off, Sirius was taken from me, and I couldn't even perform a decent Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix."

Here, Ron, Hermione and Lupin gasped while more tears spilled over Harry's eyelids – Dumbledore, Bellatrix ,Voldemort, and Snape as of a few hours ago, were the only ones who knew about him performing the pain inflicting curse.

"Oh, and I was possessed by Voldemort, and ever since that night, I've been having dreams about Sirius falling through the veil over and over again. Not to mention the fact that I now know that there is a Prophecy about myself and Voldemort, that states one of us will either kill or be killed by the other. So, as you can see, 'Perfect Potter's' life isn't so perfect after all. In fact, it sucks, and I'd give anything to trade it in for a new one. And you're shit that you always give me never helps any of this – it just makes it worse! And this time, you went too far with it!"

Snape looked very shocked and alarmed with all of the information that he had just heard, especially the last part of it. He looked absolutely frightened then when Harry steadied his wand and glared at him, and his mouth opened and he yelled, "Crucio!"

Snape winced, and opened his mouth to scream. But before anything could come out, he heard someone else's screams, and he realized that he didn't feel any pain. Then he heard Hermione scream Harry's name, and he opened his eyes. There on the ground, was Harry, writhing in pain, feeling the full affects of the Cruciatus Curse that he had just used on himself.

A/N2: Harry, Harry, Harry... you'll never learn, will you? lol. Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please review this chapter, and thanks to those of you who reviewed the first one: FroBoy, yellowpages, aieltinker, Heathz, and Malfoy vs Potter. You all rock my face off! Major kudos to you!

Best,  
SiriusBlack4Ever


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: All right, since you people are _so demanding _(heh, yeah right...like there's even that many people that read this) I updated this next chapter. So, here it is, Chapter 3 of More Pain Than I Can Bear. Oh, and it's told from Snape's PoV now, not Harry's...just a word to the wise there._

_Disclaimer: I love Harry Potter, but I don't think J.K. Rowling knows that, so she hasn't given me the rights to the book yet, meaning I don't own it. Let me just get on her good side, and we'll see what happens..._

Chapter 3

Snape's eyes became as big as hubcaps as he looked down at Harry, and he felt his mouth slide open. Harry was still lying on the floor, his body writhing around. And he was screaming. For every muscle spasm that he felt, Harry screamed louder.

However, even over his howling screams, you could still here Hermione's cries. She too was screaming, and tears were flooding her cheeks. Ron was next to her, holding her shoulders, but not saying anything. Like Snape, his mouth and eyes were wide opened, and he seemed petrified. Even Lupin didn't seem to be able to move; he just watched Harry, as his own tears sidled over his eyelids.

Snape was the first one to come to his senses. He quickly pulled out his wand and shouted the counter-curse at Harry's body, which, although the curse had been lifted, was still shaking horribly. Hermione's sobs grew, if possible, even louder, and she flung herself onto the ground.

"Harry!" she sobbed, moving over to him. "Wake up Harry, wake up!" Ron slowly moved over to her, taking her in his arms and holding her, while she continued to sob into Ron's chest, telling Harry all the while to wake up.

Lupin was still sitting in the exact same spot, and was still staring at Harry. He didn't seem to be in the room with everyone else. Tears were still pouring down his cheeks, and his eyes had a glassy finish to them.

Snape was still shocked, but quickly put everything behind him. If no one else was going to take charge, he felt that he should. Especially since, though he would never admit it out loud, this was partially his fault.

"Weasley," he said, kneeling down on the floor next to Ron, who looked into Snape's face. "Take Miss Granger to the study, and lay her down on the couch. Then, I will need you to inform Dumbledore immediately and let him know what has happened to Harry. Tell him to come here right away, and to bring Madame Pomfrey. After doing so, fetch your mother, and see if she can calm Miss Granger down. I expect you to stay with her after that. Understand?"

Ron nodded to show he got the message, and stood up with Hermione in his arms. She was still clinging to his chest, sobbing, and although she kept saying Harry's name, she seemed to be totally unaware of what was going on around her. Ron quickly made his way to the door, and they could hear him thundering down the stairs.

Next, Snape turned to Lupin. "Lupin," he said, and Lupin looked up at him, his eyes still glossy. "Err, are you all right?"

He couldn't believe that he was asking him this, but he knew that he had to. The man just looked at him, his head tilted to the side a bit. Snape knew that he was like Hermione – in such a state of shock that he didn't really notice much else. Snape sighed, and moved over to sit next to him. Then he placed an awkward hand on his back, and told him it was going to be okay.

Suddenly, Lupin did something that Snape never expected him to do. He started to sob. And then he placed his folded arms on Snape's shoulder, and wept into them. Snape was so shocked at first, he didn't know what to do. He had never seen Lupin sob before – or even cry, for that matter – and this seemed unusual to him. And he never, in his whole life, would have thought that this man, his enemy, would be sobbing on his shoulder. But since the situation was so weird already, he decided to just place his arms around the man next to him and embrace him, since he didn't know what else to do.

While Lupin was still sobbing uncontrollably into his arms, Snape looked over at Harry, who was still shaking. He knew that he should do something for him, but he didn't know what. He still couldn't believe what he had done to himself – he had actually, willingly, placed the Cruciatus Curse onto himself. And all of the things that he had said before that...

Snape never knew how hard his life really was. He always thought that Dumbledore's little Golden Boy had had an easy life, full of everything he wanted, people waiting on him day and night.

But he realized now that he had been completely wrong. He just always assumed that Harry craved all the attention he got, but it was apparent that he didn't. It was like a burden to him, and he had already faced so many deaths and troubles and worries in his life, and there were still more to come. He was surprised that the boy hadn't just cracked before this and gone completely insane, and he was in impressed with him for not doing so.

He was so young, and yet, he had stood up to every single bad thing that ever came crashing in on his life, and by the sound of things, he never once thought of himself. He was, as the Dark Lord said, a 'little hero'. Snape had always known that. However, he had always thought of that as bad, where as now, he appreciated Potter for it. He never thought of what could happen to him; he only cared about the people or things that were in danger because of the bad things that were going on.

In his first year, when the Sorcerer's Stone was being sought by Voldemort, and he went to save it, he had been standing up for his friends and Hogwarts; Hell, he had been standing up for the entire wizarding world then, and he was only eleven. In his second year, he had been trying to save his best friends' younger sister when he went into the Chamber of Secrets.

In his third year, he had risked his life going after a murderer to avenge his parents' death. Even after he found that the whole thing had been a mistake, his risked his life to save that man, and took on a whole crowd of Dementors. Then in his fourth year, he had been placed into the Triwizard Tournament unwillingly, and yet he stayed in it for his school. And at the end of the year, he had fought a fully 'reincarnated' Voldemort in order to avenge Cedric's death.

Then finally, throughout his whole fifth year, he had stood up and defied Umbridge, loosing his ability to play Quidditch, his privilege to go to Hogsmeade, and had had to attend detentions with her, where, as he just pointed out, he had had his hand cut open every night, just so that others would be safe and could know the truth. And, judging by Lupin's reactions, Snape wasn't the only one who didn't know about the hand thing. It appeared only Ron and Hermione knew, and he was sure that was by accident, meaning that he never complained about it.

And then, at the end of the school year, he had the guts to break into Umbridge's office, use her fireplace, stand up to her, leave her in the Forbidden Forest, fly to the Ministry of Magic in the dead of night, and go into the Department of Mysteries, all to find his godfather.

Suddenly, Snape realized just how brave this boy was. He was truly surprised that he hadn't snapped earlier; to be able to hold it out for this long was truly a miracle. He completely understood why Harry was in Gryffindor now: it took so much courage to do all of these things, and not go insane after witnessing or accomplishing them. He supposed that when his godfather died, that was just the icing on the cake, and he finally couldn't handle it anymore. He suddenly felt something he had never felt towards Harry before: he pitied the boy.

No, he didn't pity him. Pity was when you felt sorry for them and didn't really mean it all. No, Severus Snape sympathized Harry. He felt for him everything that had gone wrong in his life, and was now overwhelmed with shame. How could he have tortured this poor boy in front of him without ever getting to know him, just because he held a grudge against his father?

Snape didn't know what was wrong with his emotions today, for he gently moved Lupin a bit, and extended his arms towards Harry. He grasped the shaking boy in his hands, and pulled him over by his blood-soaked chest. He carefully rested the boy's chest and head in his lap, and wrapped one arm around him, while wrapping his other around Lupin, who seemed to have passed out from everything that had gone on.

Harry slowly stopped shaking, and just came to rest in Snape's lap, apparently sleeping as well. Snape just looked down at the boy, who had been, and was still, going through so much. He looked at his chest, which was slowly moving up and down with each gentle breath he took. Then he looked at the boy's clothes, which were completely soaked in blood, causing them to cling to his body.

Snape realized how horribly skinny Harry was. It was hard to tell with his robes on, since they were larger and they covered him, but now that he looked at him, his clothes sucking in against his body, he didn't think that the now sixteen-year-old could have weighed more than one hundred twenty pounds. He also noticed how white the boys skin looked from cooping himself up inside all summer long. It was starting to remind the professor of his own, though it was still slightly darker.

He moved his eyes down Harry's arms, looking at the deep cut on his left wrist, which was still bleeding excessively. He took the boy's hand gently into his own and examined the wound. It was deep; at least and inch and a quarter thick, and he could slightly see a hint of white peeking out of it. He quickly moved his arm around the boy to his pocket, and pulled out his wand, muttering a spell that sent bandages floating from the tip of his wand to Harry's wrist, wrapping themselves around the wound.

Placing the hand on Harry's chest, he slipped his wand back into his pocket. His eyes traveled up now, and looked into Harry's face. He had never really looked him full-on in the face before, because every time he did, he was reminded of James. However, as he looked into his face, his noticed the distinct differences. His nose was slightly shorter than James' was, and he also had a few freckles resting on the very tip of it. His eyes, he knew, though they were closed, were a startling green, exactly the color that Lily's had been. And then there was the scar.

The only evidence left of the night that the Dark Lord had killed Harry's parents happened to be this very scar that rested on his forehead. Snape studied it, taking in the intricate details of it's shape, noticing how red it had become from the pain Harry was in. He slowly stuck out his finger, and gently ran it over the mark.

Harry suddenly twitched, making Snape retract his hand almost instantly. He looked into Harry's face, and saw that, underneath his round, black glasses, those emerald orbs were half-open, looking glazed. Snape was startled at first; what would Harry do when he found out that he was lying in his most hated professor's lap?

However, he just blinked once, and shut his eyes again, resting them, and Snape let out a small sigh of relief. Then, he heard soft, hurried footsteps running up the stairs, and Dumbledore entered the room. The ancient Headmaster was looking old as ever, and his blue eyes were completely devoid of their normal twinkle. His lips were also formed into a small frown, and it grew wider as he looked at Harry lying on the floor.

Once his eyes took in the scene with Snape, though, the smallest flicker of a smile met his old, soft lips, and his eyes showed some amusement, returning a very dull twinkle to them.

"Severus," he said, greeting Snape, who just nodded, feeling himself grow slightly red in the face. "I'm pleased to see that you have been taking care of everyone here." His eyes went to Harry, who was lying in Snape's lap, and then went and lingered on his shoulder where Lupin was resting. Snape cleared his throat, and tried to gently move Lupin off of him and rest him against the bed, just as Madame Pomfrey came in.

She too smiled at the scene in front of her, before fully realizing that Harry was covered in blood. She gasped. "Oh my – Merlin, Severus! What happened to him?"

Snape looked up at her a moment, before diverting his eyes back to Harry. "He cut himself, Poppy," he said.

"How?" she asked him, worry in her voice. "He must have hit something pretty hard to have made him get a cut bad enough to bleed this much."

Snape looked up at her, anger in his voice now. "For Merlin's sake, Poppy!" he said, and she looked flustered. "He didn't cut himself by hitting something! He cut himself by taking a shard of glass and flailing over his wrist! He's hurting himself! He's a cutter!"

He was practically screaming by the end of the sentence to a very shocked Madame Pomfrey, yet he was still a little startled when Harry stirred.

"Is he awake?" Dumbledore asked suddenly. Snape looked down at Harry again, who had stopped moving, and shook his head.

"No, I think the Cruciatus Curse hurt him enough afterwards to knock him out for a little while."

Madame Pomfrey gasped again, and Dumbledore looked alarmed. "He was hit by the Cruciatus Curse? How?"

Snape shut his eyes and diverted them away from the two again. "He used it on himself." Once again, just as he predicted, Madame Pomfrey gasped, and Dumbledore moved over to Harry so suddenly, Snape was a little alarmed.

He looked down at Harry, who's chest was still moving up and down in time with his breathing, and then slowly stood up again. "Poppy," he said, turning to the school nurse. "He will not be coming back to Hogwarts. The journey would be too much for him, even by Portkey or Floo. You will have to tend to him here, where he will remain."

Madame Pomfrey nodded, and her eyes still showed worry. Then Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, I thank you greatly for your help. You may go now, so that Poppy can tend to Harry."

Snape stood up while holding Harry gently in his arms and set him on the bed, but didn't move from the room.

"Headmaster, if I might, could I, err, uh-"

Dumbledore smiled, knowing exactly what Snape was about to say. "Yes, of course, Severus. You may stay with Harry."

Snape stood awkwardly, looking at Dumbledore, whose eyes seemed to regain their normal twinkle, and whose lips formed back into that classic benign smile beneath his long, white beard. He then made his way over to Lupin.

"Poor lad," he said, frowning a bit. "He seems to be really shaken up. Poppy, if I could have you examine Mr. Lupin here when you're done with Harry, it would be much appreciated."

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Of course," she said to Dumbledore. "The poor dear is probably just exhausted. It is close to a full moon, you know, and this must have made him quite active."

"I'm sure it did," Dumbeldore replied, and he flicked to wand so that Lupin was hovering in front of him. He then made his way to the door, and turned around to face them both. "I'll just leave the two of you here to help Harry then, shall I?" And he walked from the room.

They both looked after him for a while, before turning and looking back at Harry.

"Well," Poppy said heavily. "We should get to work." Snape nodded, and the two stood next to Harry, who was still lying in the same position on the bed.

"We should probably get him out of these clothes first," Poppy said, staring down at his blood-covered clothes. Although she was a nurse, and had probably seen worse things, she still looked slightly uncomposed as she grabbed at Harry's robes.

"Let me do it, Poppy," Snape said, taking the fabric she was holding away from her. She looked up into his face for a second before walking over to the side of the room, where she began to pull out various potions from a brown leather bag that she had brought.

Snape gently removed the robe around Harry's body, and tossed it aside on the floor. He then grabbed the top button on his shirt and unfastened it, and then did the same to the rest of them, until he had opened all of the buttons. He pulled off the sleeves of the shirt, while being extra careful while going over his wounded wrist.

As he made to toss aside the shirt, he noticed something on Harry's shoulder. He lifted the boy's back a bit, so as to glance at the shoulders more clearly, and almost dropped him after doing so. There, etched into his skin, were four small fingernail marks, each about an eighth of an inch deep, dried blood smeared around their edges. Snape gasped slightly, and Madame Pomfrey came over.

"Professor, what is i-" she started, but was interrupted by one of her own gasps. She looked down at the marks, and then looked up at Snape. "He did this to himself?" she asked Snape, and he shut his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "Then who-"

But she seemed to suddenly realize just who, for Snape felt a hand being laid on his shoulder. "Severus?" she said, her voice soft and motherly. Snape didn't say anything. He just stood there, hating himself for what he had done. He had caused so much pain upon this child verbally, and now here he was, causing physical pain upon him as well. Merlin, couldn't he ever do anything right?

He was determined not to cry. Never had he felt such the urge to do so; at least not since his mother had died when he was in school. He bit his inner lip, and tried to choke back the tears. Poppy seemed to realize what he was doing, for she gently rubbed his back, and whispered that it would be all right, much like what he had done to Lupin earlier.

Snape suddenly found from somewhere inside of him that boasting, arrogant Slytherin pride, and held back the tears, lifting up his head to face the boy in front of him. He wasn't going to cry; at least, not in front of anyone, right here. He quickly took the shirt that was still clutched in his hands, and gently placed it on the floor. Then, he moved aside so that Poppy could do her work on him.

He went and sat over in a chair by the large, oak dressing cabinet by the wall, and waited for Poppy to be done. His eyes lingered over to the floor where Harry had been laying, and noticed a pool of blood on the floor that had poured from his wrists. Snape felt slightly nauseous looking at it, and quickly looked down at his hands. Within a matter of about five minutes, Poppy was done, and Snape went over and examined the boy on the bed.

Harry's wrist was completely wrapped in new bandages, and his shoulder had a few gauze strips covering the small fingernail wounds. However, his face was still dirty and tear-streaked, and still had the swipe of blood across it. He was also still wearing his blood-stained pants, and had no shirt, so Snape decided to take over the rest of it, and quickly conjured up a wash cloth and bowl of water with his wand.

"Well, if you want to take it from here then, I'm going to go check on Remus," Poppy said, smiling slightly at him. "Let me know if he has any more problems. I'll check back in an hour or so to see if he's awake yet." And then she too left the room, leaving only Harry with Snape. He quickly took the bowl he had just conjured and set it on the night stand, before taking the cloth and dipping it into the water. He ran the warm, damp cloth over Harry's face, and softly rubbed at the stains.

Within minutes, his face was clean, and it looked fine. He then proceeded to pull the covers over Harry, but realized that he still was wearing his blood stained pants. Not being a person to just take others pants off, Snape flicked his wand, and Harry's pants were replaced with black pajama bottoms. He then went to fix him with a shirt, but Harry's upper body caught his attention again.

He looked even smaller without his shirt on – his skin was practically clinging to his bones, and you could actually see the outline of his ribs against the skin. He looked like he hadn't eaten in months, which, Snape reminded himself, was probably half true. He knew that it hadn't been months, but had been days at least, maybe even a week or longer.

He quickly flicked his wand again, replacing Harry's bare chest with a black shirt. He then placed the boy under the sheets, and pulled the covers up to his shoulders.

However, his hands grazed the spot where the bandages on his shoulder were, and he stopped suddenly again. He looked back down at the faint outline of the gauze strips that you could see through the pajama top, and he felt the familiar crying sensation sweep over him once again. He was not going to cry. He was not going to cry. He was not going to cry.

"Merlin, why the hell did I have to do that to him?" he quietly whispered to the room. "If his life wasn't hell enough, I've added so much more to it now." It wasn't until he felt a hand on his cheek that he noticed the tears that were falling down them for the first time in over twenty years. He was startled by the hand that was touching him, and jumped back suddenly.

But as he looked up, he saw that it was Harry, and that he had been wiping the tears off of his face. The boy looked tired and exhausted, but seemed to know full well what he was doing.

"Harry?" he asked softly, and Harry smiled slightly up at him. The Potion's Master looked over at him, almost smiling out of relief, but caught himself in time. He couldn't let Harry see him like this; he quickly wiped his face and made to stand up, but Harry grabbed him with his right arm, and he stopped.

Harry was looking up at him with almost pleading eyes. "Please, don't leave," he said.

"You'd rather have your friends in here than me," Snape said, but kneeled down again anyway. Harry looked over at him, emerald meeting onyx, and finally spoke again.

"It's not your fault," he said to Snape, his voice barely audible.

"What did you say?"" Snape asked him quietly, eyeing Harry intently.

"It's not your fault," Harry told him, his voice a little louder and more firm.

Snape didn't believe what he was hearing - Harry Potter, the person who he thought had always hated him, was being civil. In fact, he was telling him that it wasn't his fault for what had happened. Any other time, Snape would have thought that Harry would blame him for anything that would have gone wrong, but here he was, doing the exact opposite.

"Harry," Snape said, and then stopped, trying to find the right words. However, he could only think of one thing that would truly sum up what he had to say. "Why?"

Harry laughed slightly, but then looked into Snape's eyes, seeing how sincere they were, and told him. "Because," he told him, and Snape rolled his eyes. Harry chuckled again. "Because," he repeated. "I feel like I need you to be here. I don't know why, but I do. I can understand if you want to leave; I mean, I know you hate me, so you should have every right to. But, somehow, I feel like you should be here."

Harry's words stung. Snape wasn't sure why, but they did. He felt like he had been slapped across the face when Harry said that he, Snape, hated him.

"I don't hate you, Harry," he said softly, looking down at his hands, which were resting on the boy's arm. Harry snorted, but at Snape's look, he quickly stopped again. "I don't, Harry. I can't hate you. Not after what I heard. I will admit that I've thought that I hated you before, but the truth is, I don't. Especially now that I know everything that you've been through. It would be absolutely cruel to hate you now, especially when I have no reason to do so."

Harry looked shocked. "You don't hate me?" he asked Snape, who felt like he had been slapped again.

"No, I don't," he replied, looking down again. "But you should every right to hate me."

"But the thing is, I don't either," Harry told him, and Snape once again looked into his eyes. "I know I act like a real pain in the ass most of the time, but it's only because I'm always so angry, and I feel like I need to let it all out on someone. So I let it out on you. I realize how wrong I've been this whole time."

Snape, again, couldn't believe that Harry was saying this to him. He suddenly felt very warmly towards the boy for telling him this.

"It's all right Harry," he said, meeting his eyes again. "I haven't exactly been the best person in the world either."

Again, Harry just laughed softly, and Snape half-smiled, something that was very rare for him. However, Harry started coughing hard, and Snape looked up at him, and placed a hand on his back, supporting him. Harry raised his right hand to his mouth to cover it, and while it was there, Snape noticed faint, thin lines on it that caught in the light.

Harry finished coughing, and was lowering his hand, when Snape grabbed it. He looked at it, and found that the marks were small letters, that looked like Harry had taken a knife and was writing on his hand. When he studied the words closer, he could see that the words spelled out _'I must not tell lies.'_

_So, you like? Let me know by reviewing, because reviews make me happy. These people made me happy with the last chapter: Ahmad53832, FroBoy, foolishangel87, and yellowpages._

_To Ahmad53832: I'm glad to know you like the story so far. Oh, and I'd love to read your story. I'll try to do that tonight before I log off. _

_To FroBoy: Yes, I love being able to change things around to suit my stories. It makes it fun! Though, I don't see why you couldn't use the Curse on yourself...hmm...I should go ponder this..._

_To foolishangel87: I'm glad you like the story, and I'm thrilled to know it's going in your favorites! Yay!_

_To yellowpages: lol. Glad to know you still like it._

_Well, check tomorrow for the next chapter!_

_Hugs,_

_SiriusBlack4Ever_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry I wasn't able to upload last night, but my internet has been acting up a lot recently, and it kicked me off before I could upload. So, because of that, I'm going to upload two chapters today instead of one. Enjoy! Oh, and by the way - this chapter gets quite a bit more graphic, so if you aren't in to this stuff, I advise you to watch out...  
_

_Disclaimer: I have a sucky internet service, but no rights to the Harry Potter books. (Psst! That means I don't own them, which in turn means don't sue!)_

Chapter 4

Harry was looking into his Potion Master's eyes, which had suddenly grown menacing after looking at the marks on his hand. This was quite a change from the previous looks that he had been receiving from him.

After Harry had passed out on the floor from the Cruciatus Curse that he had placed upon himself, he had felt a sharp pain in his forehead from someone touching his scar. He half-awoke in someone's lap, and saw Snape hovering over him, looking into his eyes with concern. He realized that he must have been in Snape's lap, and was slightly disgusted for a minute, before realizing that Snape must have chosen for him to be there. With that thought, he had fallen back asleep.

Sometime later, he had once again awoken because of Snape. However, this time, it wasn't because Snape had touched him. No, it was because Snape had been talking.

"Merlin, why the hell did I have to do that to him?" he had quietly whispered to himself, and Harry was shocked to see tears starting to fall down his cheeks. "If his life wasn't hell enough, I've added so much more to it now." Harry knew that Snape was talking about him, and for the first time in his life, he felt sympathy for the man.

Carefully, slowly, Harry reached out his hand to his Professor's face, and grazed his fingers over his cheeks, wiping away the tears. Snape jumped back suddenly at the sudden touch, and looked over at Harry.

"Harry?" he asked very softly, and Harry couldn't help but smile up at him. He never thought that he would be saying this, but God, it felt good to just be civil towards this man for once, instead of always yelling at him. He noticed Snape start to smile, but then a look of realization crossed his face, and he quickly stood up.

Harry wasn't sure why, but instinct made him grab Snape's arm. For some reason, he wanted him to stay there with him, to keep him company. Snape spun around to face him, and Harry looked up with pleading in his eyes.

"Please, don't leave," he said, almost feeling as though the tears were going to start to fall again.

"You'd rather have your friends in here than me," Snape replied, but to Harry's relief, he kneeled down anyway.

Doing this had made the two start a very comforting conversation, until Harry started coughing. He had placed his right hand up to his mouth to cover it, and upon pulling it back down, Snape had grabbed it. Harry was shocked that he would do this, but soon found out why.

He looked over at Snape, who was examining his hand closely, his eyes filled with shock. Harry then realized that it was the hand that had the scars from Umbridge's quill on it.

Snape looked up at him, his eyes filled with anger, and said, "Did you do this?" His voice was slightly menacing, and Harry just looked shocked. He couldn't talk. No one knew about this except for Ron and Hermione, and he hadn't wanted them to know then, either. But he had blabbed it out during his little 'anger session', so he knew that it was only time before someone asked him about it. He just didn't think that that person would have been Snape.

"Potter?" Snape asked unconsciously, calling him by his first name again. This made Harry feel worse, as it reminded him of all of the times at Hogwarts when Snape had tormented him. And with that, he remembered the times spent with his other Professor, who he had loathed even more than Snape.

The last name seemed to being everything back, every memory from last year at school when he was with Umbridge. He remembered sitting in Umbridge's office, having his hand cut open. He remembered sitting in McGonagall's office, having Umbridge tell him he couldn't play Quidditch, and then again in the same place, Umbridge telling him he could never be Auror. He remembered when Umbridge had found out about the DA, and when she had caught him trying to talk to Sirius through her fireplace. Harry's eyes filled with soft tears, and he just shook his head to answer Snape's question.

Snape must have understood, because a look of dawning comprehension came over his face. "Harry," he said, once again going back to using his first name, to which Harry was grateful for. "Is this what Umbridge did to you?"

Slowly, his eyes still wide and misty, he nodded, and Snape made a scowling noise.

"Why that good-for-nothing-" he started loudly, but then looked back at Harry. "How did she do it to you? What did she use?"

Harry still didn't say anything. His mouth didn't seem to be able to move. This was something that he had kept inside for so long, and he really didn't want to let it back out.

"It's all right Harry, you can tell me," Snape said in a soothing voice, and Harry once again looked him in the eyes.

"She – she – she used a quill," he told Snape, trying to form the words together. Snape seemed to be puzzled slightly.

"What kind of quill?" he asked quickly, pressing Harry for answers. Harry sat there a minute, trying to compose his thoughts.

"I don't know really. I had never seen one before," he started, his voice soft and shaking slightly, before growing darker with his next statement. "All I know is, she never had to buy ink for it. I provided it for her."

Harry shuddered slightly, remembering the pain and the anger he had felt then. Snape saw this, and looked over at him. Harry could tell he was confused, but that he knew that it obviously wasn't good, based on Harry's reaction.

"What do you mean, you provided ink for her?" he asked, his voice puzzled. "Do you mean you had to use your own ink or something?"

Harry grinned grimly. "Oh yes. I had to use my very own ink." He was feeling a bit deranged now, and Snape was looking at him with shock.

"I still don't think that I'm following you, Harry," he said softly, looking at him.

Harry's could feel his smile turning grimmer. "Well, put it this way: whatever kind of quill she had, it somehow got the blood out of my hand and used it for ink."

Snape gasped. "What do you mean?" he said quickly. Harry's grin finally vanished completely as he looked at Snape. He really didn't want to go on, but he knew that Snape would demand to hear the rest now that he had gotten this far.

"Well, as soon as I set the quill on the parchment and started writing, whatever marks I made would form on the back of my hand, making it bleed, and the blood from it would somehow form on my quill and become my ink," he said, and Snape gasped again, looking utterly more shocked. "It would heal over each time, but once you've been sitting there for almost four hours a night for over a week, it doesn't heal so easily anymore, and eventually just stops healing over completely."

Harry looked up at Snape, and saw that his Potion's Master was, for once, speechless. "To put it lightly, it hurt like Hell," Harry said, the grim grin coming back to his face. "Not much unlike what it felt like when I cut my wrist." Here, Harry quickly cut himself off, not wanting to go into any more detail.

Snape looked up at him, apparently finding his voice again. "Why did you do that?" he asked suddenly, and he seemed very intent on knowing why. Harry didn't really want to go into details, especially not since Snape was the one he would be telling them too. I mean, yes, he hadn't had much trouble telling him other personal things, but this was something that he thought might have been too personal. After all, after today, Snape would probably go back to loathing him, and Harry would probably regret telling him what he did.

Snape must have seen the hesitation in his face, because he said, "Harry, you don't have to tell me this if you don't feel comfortable with it, but I would appreciate knowing." Harry sat and considered this for a few minutes before finally coming upon a decision.

"I can't," he told Snape, who's face fell. "I'm sorry, but I just don't want to talk about it right now. It's all just too much to go into at the moment, and I'd just get myself even more upset." Noticing how Snape was taking this, he quickly added, "I'm sorry."

Snape looked up at him. "No, it's fine, Potter," he said, though it didn't sound like it was. Harry felt a little pissed off at Snape again.

"Oh, so now, because I don't want to share something with you at the moment, you have to be all jerky to me again, right?" he asked Snape, his words growing cruel.

Snape looked up at him, his eyes regaining their usual malice. "Potter, do not speak to me that way," he said, his voice growing ever icier.

"As I've said before, I'll speak however I damn well want to speak with you," Harry said, his anger getting the better of him.

"Potter, you're an arrogant little bastard," Snape said, his eyes practically burning into Harry now. "You're quite like you're father in that way, you know."

Snape must have realized what he just said, for his eyes grew wide, and he said, "Wait a minute, Harry, I didn't-"

But Harry, completely fed up with the man in front of him now, just shouted, "Yes you did! You were full aware of what you were saying! Just get the hell out of my room!"

Snape just stood there, in the same spot, not moving, so Harry yelled again. "Get out of my room! Now! Get out!!" His eyes were blazing, and he was practically screaming. Snape looked really shocked, and possibly even hurt, but Harry didn't care, and as Snape backed out of the room and shut the door, Harry let out a large breath of relief. Then, he started to cry again.

Once again, his sobs were loud and gut-wrenching, and he bent over, bringing in his knees to his chest, hugging them with his arms. He started to sway back and forth slowly, still holding his knees protectively. He started to get that incredibly empty feeling back inside of him, and he felt suddenly so alone. He needed to get the pain out of him again, but there was once again only one way.

He pulled himself out of his bed, and then sat on the floor. He practically dragged his crying self over to the wall where something was glittering on the floor. He reached out his hand and grasped the shining piece of glass that Lupin had thrown over there earlier. He turned himself around, and crawled back over to his bed, heaving himself into it.

He then sat up, staring at the shiny object, which now had dry, crusted scarlet stains on it. The shard was again looking entirely pleasing to him, and he grasped it tightly in his hand again – so tightly in fact, that the other edges gently dug into his skin. He winced at the pain, but welcomed it all the same.

He hastily ripped off the bandages from his left wrist, and stared at the cut there. The slice that he had made on his skin seemed so beautiful to him somehow, and he couldn't wait to just pierce the skin there again. So, raising the glass above his head like a dagger, he violently shoved it down, this time actually stabbing the wound more than cutting it, releasing a fresh supply of blood.

For the second time within a matter of about a minute, he almost screamed, but held it in and again welcomed the pain. He smiled grimly to himself, knowing full well what everyone would say when they found out. But he wouldn't let them find out. He would bandage up the wrist again when he was done, and hope that no one would notice the difference.

Before he had time to change his mind, he pressed the miniature blade against his skin forcefully, bringing forth more blood, and more pain. He continued doing this, until the pain became almost unbearable. Then he took the sparkling object, and placed it on his upper arm, putting a gentle pressure on it, until the skin there also broke.

He felt another sharp pain, and then pressed harder, adding more pressure to the wound, making it bleed freely down his arm. He stopped for a second to marvel at the blood that was slowly trickling down his arm. It looked so wonderful flowing down like that; it was as if those were Harry's past memories, opening up and flowing out and away. As the blood slowed, he swiped the blade over the cut again, and watched more of the blood flow out.

As he sat in awe at the blood flowing like a tiny stream down his arm, he traced it with the glass, making delicate curved lines down the arm after it, releasing more blood as he went. Suddenly, he reached the creased line in his skin where he bent his elbow, and felt a sharp pain that made him scream out in pain. However, not wanting to alert anyone else in the room of what he was doing, he bit his inner lip. He was holding it down so hard that he started to taste the blood in his mouth.

He looked down at his arm and whimpered, realizing that whenever he bent his arm, he felt pain in the place where he had first felt the sharp pain. More sobs escaped his mouth as he dropped the shard to the floor and hugged his arm to his chest. The sobs just kept coming out of his mouth, not stopping, and each time one left his mouth they became louder.

His throat started to get soar from the sobs and from the screaming and yelling he had done earlier, and he started to cough, sobs separating them and making them sound choppy. He couldn't stop crying long enough to get all of the coughing out, so he just kept coughing harder and harder, and soon started to cough up blood. Little flecks were flying out of his mouth and spraying the sheets in front of him, and the tears fell harder from his eyes, feeling like they were burning his skin because they were so warm.

He tried to hold his breath, to stop the coughing and the sobbing, but he couldn't. They both just kept coming. Soon, the sheets in front of him were covered in blood, both from his arms and wrists, and from the stuff that was coming out of his mouth. His throat felt like it was on fire, and his scar was once again feeling like the blade he had thrown on the floor was white-hot and was stabbing at it.

Finally, Harry felt to tired to hold on, and as the world started to spin around him, he slipped back onto his pillows, and all became black.

_Well, go on and read the next chapter then..._

_SiriusBlack4Ever_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Aren't you glad that I updated two chapters? That way, the suspense won't kill you. Of course, the suspense at the end of this chapter might, so I suppose this isn't saying much..._

_Disclaimer: Still don't own it, still probably never will... I'll let you know if I ever do though.  
_

Chapter 5

Screaming. Running. Door. Yells. Head. Arm. Throat. Pain. Hurt. Dizzy. Suddenly, Harry opened his eyes. Everything in front of him was blurry, and he felt dizzy looking around the room. He was wet, and he hurt all over. His head, throat, arm and wrist all hurt the most, though, and he didn't know what was going on. He had heard someone scream, and then heard them running away, opening the door, and running out, yelling to other people.

He was trying to understand what was going on; however, his head hurt, and he didn't think he could keep his eyes open any longer without vomiting. So he quickly shut his eyes. However, the dizzying sensation was still present in his mind, and he slowly turned onto his side, and wretched violently over the edge of the bed. It tasted horrible; a mixture of blood and stomach acid. He desperately wished that he had eaten something that morning.

Then, after that thought, he slowly started to remember everything that had happened that day. He remembered the Unforgivable Curse, he remembered the cutting, he remembered Snape...then he remembered more cutting...

Suddenly realizing what was wrong, Harry began to panic, and in doing so, became dizzier and once again wretched over the side of the bed.

He then heard voices and footsteps that kept getting louder, and he heard them enter his room. Then someone screamed, and for a second time, all became black.

Snape had been sitting in the kitchen at Number 12, pondering over everything that had happened. He had been having a conversation with Potter, and everything had seemed to be going well. He had hit it off with the boy quite nicely, but then, he had to go and open his big mouth, and ruin the whole situation again.

Snape sighed loudly, and drank a sip of the strong, herbal tea that was in front of him. Merlin, why did he always have to be so stupid? Why couldn't he, just for once, have been nice to Harry instead of getting mad at him? He had actually found out that the boy could be very pleasant when he wasn't smarting off to you, and Snape was upset that he had made Harry angry with him again.

He was about to take another sip of his tea, when he heard a female scream coming from upstairs. He quickly dropped his cup back on the table where it tipped over, and doing nothing about it, ran to the kitchen door to run up the stairs. He had a sudden feeling of déjà vu overcome him; it seemed like this had just happened not to long ago.

Halfway through the main floor, he saw Lupin stick his head out of his room. He looked much better than he had been earlier, but Snape saw the lines of worry masked into his face again. The two shared a glance, and then proceeded to the stairway, and noticed that everyone else was apparently looking out of their rooms as well.

However, they had only climbed a fourth of it, when they saw Madame Pomfrey running down the next flight of stairs towards them.

"Oh my – oh my – oh my – quick! Someone, quickly, help!" she was shouting, and he and Lupin made their way up to her quickly, and asked her what was wrong.

"It's – it's-"

"It's what?" Lupin asked, sounding ecstatic. But apparently, Poppy couldn't say what. She actually started sobbing as she was standing there, and then, from Snape's right, a door opened, and Dumbledore stepped out of it.

"What's the problem Poppy?" Dumbledore asked softly, though he obviously wanted an answer right away. Madame Pomfrey seemed almost to ecstatic to speak, put finally got out the word, "Harry."

Everyone just stood there for a second, and the whole house seemed deathly quiet. The only noise that was being made was from Poppy's sobs. Snape was just standing there, going over this in his mind. Harry? Had she said Harry? No, she couldn't have. He just left him a mere half-hour ago, and he had been fine...

No, came a voice from inside of his head. He hadn't been fine. You upset him, and he was really angry. Snape couldn't imagine what he could have done this time, especially to get Poppy this upset over it. Yes, she always did fuss over the boy, but this was taking it to the extreme.

There was a sudden movement from one of the doors, and Snape jerked his head up to see one figure running up the stairs, shortly followed by two others.

"Ron, Ginny, Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley shouted after the children. "No! Don't go up there!"

But they kept running anyway, determined to get to their friend. It appeared that they cared for Harry as much as he cared for them, and wanted to make sure that he didn't need help and was all right.

Mrs. Weasley was still shouting after them to come down, but it was useless. They wouldn't do it. So, again taking on a lead roll, since no one else was, Snape pushed pass Lupin and ran up after them. He heard other footsteps behind him, and turned to see everyone else follow.

He quickly made his way up the stairs, and was almost to Harry's room, when he heard a scream. This made him and the others stop momentarily, but when he started up again, he practically sprinted into the room. He saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny all standing there, sobs racking the latter two's throats. Ron seemed like he was on the verge of tears, but was trying with all his might to hold them back.

Then, Snape looked over at the bed, and had to bite his inner lip to keep from screaming himself. It didn't matter though, as people were filing into the room behind him, and each time someone else entered, they screamed.

Snape was wondering why no one had passed out yet from the sight in front of them; he was certain that he was about to. He stared at the bed, and felt a nauseating feeling overpower him. The crisp white sheets of the bed had turned a dark red color, and they appeared to be soaking wet with the liquid. But they didn't look as bad as Harry did.

He was laying on his right side, his head hanging partially over the bed, underneath him a pile of vile looking vomit on the floor. It was partially red, meaning that he had probably coughed up a lot of blood while doing this. But that wasn't even the half of it. No, Harry still looked much worse. Snape saw with repulsion that, although he was wearing the black pajamas that he had placed on him earlier, they had now turned a heavy crimson color, and were also soaking wet. The left arm sleeve of the shirt was pulled up all the way to Harry's shoulder, and he saw that he had ripped off the bandages on his wrist, and had once again cut into it, making it bleed freely.

But Snape saw something else. Something else seemed to be running down his left arm. He walked slowly over to Harry, and moved his arm to the side a bit to look at it, and upon seeing what it was, he let out his long awaited scream.

Everyone else in the room tried to move in closer, but Dumbledore managed to get to the front of the crowd and held them all back.

"Everyone! Back to your rooms!" he shouted, and when no one moved, he yelled, "Now!"

That got everyone moving, and they were quickly leaving, their voices carrying hints of worry and sympathy. However, it appeared that not everyone had left.

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny," Dumbledore said softly. "I need you three to leave." They must have just been staring ahead, not saying anything, for Dumbledore repeated himself. "I need you three to leave."

Snape heard someone turn around on the floor behind him, and then heard the shouts of Ron. "We're not about to go and leave Harry here like this! Look at him! Look what happened the last two times we left him!"

"Ron," Dumbledore said gently, trying to persuade him. "He won't be alone. We'll be here with him. He needs medical attention, and I know for a fact that if he were awake, he wouldn't want you here to see this."

"Yes he would!" Ron said, and his voice now sounded like he was close to tears. "He'd want us here by him. He would. He would. He would." His voice slowly faded, and there was a soft thud on the ground, followed by small sobs. Dumbledore must have bent down and dragged him out of the room, for his sobs became quieter and quieter until they stopped.

"Hermione, Ginny, please go help Ron," Dumbledore told the two remaining teenagers. "He needs to be helped as much as you do. Please, go on. We'll let you know as soon as we're done, all right?"

Then he heard soft, slow footsteps moving along with the sobs, and as soon as the door shut, the was silence again, except for Harry's ragged, uneven breathing.

Snape was still staring straight-ahead at Harry, but quickly turned around when Dumbledore next spoke.

"Lupin," he said. "Are you all right?" Snape had no idea that Lupin would have been in here, but he supposed that he should have expected that. After all, he was Potter's – no, Harry's – new replacement godfather.

Snape looked into Lupin's face, and saw that he was just staring at Harry, tears forming in his eyes again. The man tore his eyes away from the sight in front of him, and nodded at Dumbledore, putting a determined look on his face, though the tears were still there.

Snape looked back over at Harry's arm, and even though he had already seen it once, became instantly shocked again at the sight in front of him. It was too hard not to be. He heard the footsteps behind him, and saw Lupin and Dumbledore kneel down on either side of him. They both gasped at Harry's arm as well, and after he swished his wand to clean up the vomit on the floor, Dumbledore gently reached out and softly took the arm in his hand to examine it.

Not only had the cut on Harry's wrist become deeper, but it seemed as though he had cut his upper arm as well, and there was a small, intricate line running down his arm from that spot, leaking out blood. It looked as though Harry had traced the blood that was flowing from his other cut all the way down his arm until he reached the creasing point where he would bend it. Snape figured that he had bent his arm, and it had hurt extremely bad from doing so, so he had stopped there.

The blood was still pouring from his arm and wrist, and it was softly dripping to the floor, where a small puddle of it was already forming. That's when Snape looked up into Harry's face, and again gasped. "Merlin," was all he could say, and he heard the two other wizards behind him do the same.

Harry's face was bright red and warm, and he looked like he had a fever. He also had small flecks of blood around the perimeter of his bottom lip, which confirmed Snape's assumptions that he had, indeed, coughed up bits of blood. But neither of these were anything compared to his scar.

His scar was bright red, and small, tiny drops of blood were oozing out of it. Never, in his life, had Snape ever seen Harry's scar bleed. He had seen it after the Triwizard Tournament when it was bright red, and had even heard Dumbledore talk about it after the incident at the Department of Mysteries when he had been possessed by Voldemort and it had turned a dark scarlet color. But never, ever had he seen or heard of it bleeding.

Lupin let out a soft sob next to him, and Snape looked over into the man's face. He seemed on the verge of another breakdown, but Snape saw the determined look in his eyes that made it seem like he was trying hard not to do so and stay here with Harry. Snape then looked at Dumbledore, who looked back up at him. Once again, there was no twinkling in his bright blue eyes, and they seemed to have turned a dull navy color. There was once again a frown underneath his long white beard, and he had never looked so old.

Turning back to Harry, Dumbledore said, "He will need medical attention immediately." Snape was still looking into Dumbledore's face, though now it was with shock instead of uncertainty.

"But, Dumbledore, how can we get that to him?" he asked, and in his mind he thought that Dumbledore would have realized all of this. "It doesn't appear that Poppy can really give it to him, and it's not like we can just go to St. Mungo's with him like this. Even if we could Floo or Portkey him, it still wouldn't be a smart idea."

Dumbledore looked Snape full in the face. "I realize all of this, Severus," he said sternly. "Which is why we're going to have to do this all ourselves."

Snape gasped in shock at this last statement, and Lupin quickly jerked his head around to face Dumbledore. "What do you mean?" Lupin asked him. "We can't do this! None of us have Healer qualifications by any means, and I don't want Harry to be in any more harm than he is in now."

"Nor," said Snape, voicing his opinion. "Do I." Dumbledore faced him, and Snape felt slightly nervous. He had never seen the Headmaster look as serious and menacing as he did now.

"Either we all try to help him now, or we leave him like this, until he becomes too weak to do anything. According to the Prophecy, he will not be able to die, but he can come and inch from it, and if Voldemort somehow suddenly showed up, it would be the end of Harry."

The two younger adults looked at each other, and each made a silent agreement: they were going to help Harry, no matter if they had to do it themselves or not.

"Good," Dumbledore said, reading their minds. "Well, we ought to get to work. Remus, would you please go fetch Molly? I know this will be hard for her as well, but until Madame Pomfrey calms down, she may be the best we have to help us." Lupin nodded, and walked quickly from the room.

Next, Dumbledore turned to Snape, and he felt suddenly a little nervous again. He didn't know what they would have to do for Harry, but he was sure that it wouldn't be that good.

"Severus," Dumbledore started. "I need you to run into the linen closet out in the hallway and grab some new sheets, and a stack of towels and washclothes, all right?" Severus nodded, and stood up quickly. As he was about to walk through the door, he heard Dumbledore call to him.

"And Severus? We may need for you to make some potions for us throughout this, so if you have any of your potion ingredients or anything with you, bring them up as well." Snape nodded, and made his way out the door. He quickly walked over to the hallway closet, and found a new set of sheets, and an arm-full of towels and washclothes, and then went back into the room.

Dumbledore wasn't in the room, and Snape was wondering where he had gone off to, but didn't have time to stop and think about it. So, setting the towels down on the floor at the foot of the bed, he turned around and thundered down the stairs, black robes billowing after him. He ran into the kitchen, and picked up his black leather bag that was lying on the floor by the table. Then he turned back around and ran up the stairs to Harry's room.

When he entered, he saw that Dumbledore was back, and as soon as he was back by the bed, Mrs. Weasley and Lupin were hurrying back into the room. Mrs. Weasley took one look at Harry, and a loud noise came from her mouth, sounding somewhat like a small shriek. She looked like Lupin had earlier; about to sob, but determined not to.

Dumbledore looked up and walked over to her. "Thank-you for helping us, Molly," he said, his eyes still slightly somber. "It may help to have a woman in here; especially one who has had some experience in Healthcare areas, what with having seven children."

She smiled weakly up at Dumbledore. "Of course, Albus. I'd do anything to help Harry. He's like an eighth son to me." Dumbledore smiled slightly at her, before making his way over to the bed.

"Well, first I believe that we should do something about his wrist and arms. The quicker we can get those bandaged up, the quicker they'll stop bleeding," he said. "Severus, do you have any blood thickening potion with you?"

Snape quickly checked his bag. "No, Headmaster, I'm afraid I don't," he told him. "But I can quickly make some up. It should only take a matter of about five minutes if I make it the quick way."

Dumbledore nodded, and Snape set to work. He conjured up a cauldron, and quickly started to pick out the ingredients from his bag to make the potion. He threw them all into the cauldron, and started mixing them all together. Meanwhile, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Molly were all examining the wounds that Harry had, before taking washclothes and dampening them with their wands to try to clean them up a bit.

However, they still kept bleeding, and they eventually had to take a large bath towel, and wrap it around his whole arm a few times to keep it all in. The blood on the floor that had started out as a puddle had now turned into a small pool of blood, and as each drip leaked through the towel, it became bigger. By the time the five minutes were up, and Snape was putting the potion into a small vial, the towel was completely soaked through.

Snape rushed over to side of the bed, and produced the potion for Dumbledore, who took it in his hands. He then picked up a small eyedropper that he had made with a swish of his wand earlier, and squeezed some of the liquid into it. He then unwrapped the soaking towel, and put a few drops of the potion into Harry's wrist where the wound was.

Harry's body jerked suddenly, but he didn't wake. Mrs. Weasley looked positively fearful. "What did that do to him, Albus?" she asked Dumbledore, who was now trying to put some into the slash on his upper arm.

"It should thicken his blood," he said, as Harry's body lurched again. "That should make the blood flow a little slower through the cut, preventing him from loosing a lot more blood." Then, he slowly dripped a few drops of potion down the cut that was winding down Harry's arm, making him jerk one more time, before Dumbledore set the potion aside.

He then asked Snape if he had a healing potion, which he did. Snape reached down into his bag and produced a small bottle, with a light green potion inside of it. Dumbledore uncorked it, and again took the eyedropper and sucked up some of the green liquid. He then put some onto the cuts on Harry's arm and wrist, and once again corked the bottle and set aside the eyedropper. He made to take his wand and bandage the wounds, when Mrs. Weasley spoke up.

"Err, Dumbledore?" she asked timidly, and Dumbledore turned to face her. "Yes, Molly?" he asked politely.

"Err, would it be possible for me to hand wind his bandages for him?" she asked, still sounding a little timid. Dumbledore smiled, and moved away, gesturing for her to do so. She found some medical Spell-o-tape, and began to gently wind it, first around his wrist, and then around his upper arm, all the way down to his elbow.

When she was done, she stepped back, and Dumbledore then examined Harry's forehead, looking intently at his scar. Snape was waiting for Dumbledore to say something; he was really quite wondering how on earth they were going to fix it. However, his question was suddenly answered.

"Severus?" he asked, and Snape looked over at him. "I would like you to see if you can use Legilimency on him and try to find out what exactly would have happened for his scar to do this."

Snape froze, looking at Dumbledore. "Surely you can do it, Albus?" he asked him finally, staring at the man in front of him. Dumbledore nodded his head.

"Naturally," he said, smiling slightly as he went on. "But we all know that you are the better one of the two of us, and I daresay that if you're breaking into his mind, we may wake up Harry quicker."

_Hope you liked the chapter. As always, please be kind and review. That always makes me happy and more willing to put up new chapters. Thanks to yellowpages, FroBoy, ciberloco, hufflepuff poof, Ahmad53832, Klover P, Malfoy vs Potter, follishangel87, sugarplum-princess1, and Crazy-lil-nae-nae for doing tha latter already with the last chapter. You guys rock my socks!  
_

_To yellowpages: I think I know what you mean - you aren't the first person to say that.  
_

_To Ahmad53832: Well, are you ahppy now? Nevermind, don't answer that. I'm sure it's a no, becasue now you have to wait for another update...Glad to know you still like it anyway.  
_

_To FroBoy: Glad to know you liked it!  
_

_hufflepuff poof: lol. Yeah, gotta love that angst! Check ya later, Ping Pong Lee. ; )  
_

_ciberloco: You'll just have to wait and find out...  
_

_Klover P: Happy to know you like it!  
_

_Malfoy vs Potter: Glad to know you liked it, even though you've already read it...  
_

_foolishangel87: Yay, I'm glad you liked it!!  
_

_sugarplum-princess1: Yeah, you aren't the first one to comment on that fact. But I'm just going to go with the fact that...err...rabid monkies from Mars made it okay to happen that way...yeah, that sounds about right. lol. That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it! Glad to know you liked the 'hug' part as well - I also love that scene.  
_

_Crazy-lil-nae-nae - Thanks, I'll try.  
_

_Wow...these are getting quite long...  
_

_May the Force be with You,_

_SiriusBlack4Ever_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I know, I know. I haven't updated in forever. I was sort of favoring my other fanfiction account that I have, and sort of...forgot...about this one. But no worries – I assure you that the chapters will be coming up much faster again! Enjoy this one!_

_Disclaimer: ...Do you really think that I own it? Let me answer that question for you right up front then: I don't._

Chapter 6

Harry's eyes were shut tight, and he was in a world all his own. Everything was dark, and there wasn't anything there in front of him, behind him, or on either side of him. He was just swirling in a black pit of nothingness. And the fact was, he liked it. There was no pain here. There was no sorrow here. There was death or grief here. And best of all, there was no Voldemort here.

However, he should have realized that something so wonderful, so free, wouldn't last long; nothing that was ever good to him did. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head, and he was suddenly seeing flashes of memories in front of him.

He was in his first year at Hogwarts, and he was facing Voldemort on the back of Quirrell's head. He was in his second year, and he saw Ginny lying on the floor, motionless, while Tom Riddle stood in front of him.

He was in his third year, and he was casting his first real Patronus charm out of his wand. He was in his fourth year, and he saw Voldemort in front of him, stepping out of the cauldron, before the picture flashed and he was floating, holding his shaking wand out in front of him, Voldemort doing the same, while figures, including his parents, walked around them.

It was the summer after his fourth year, and he was sitting under the Dursley's window in a flower bush, listening to their television for news. It was during his fifth year, and he was standing in Umbridge's class, yelling at her for not believing him. Then he was running towards Draco Malfoy, Fred at his side, before tackling him to the ground and beating the living Hell out of him.

Then, he was in the Department of Mysteries, and he saw Sirius. Sirius was flying gracefully through the air, his back arched, and he flew through the veil, making it flutter slightly as Harry stared at it, screaming out for Sirius, while feeling suddenly lost and afraid and alone and helpless.

"NO!" Harry yelled out, suddenly sitting up in bed. "SIRIUS! NO!" He felt two arms around him as he started to sob, and opened his eyes to see Lupin there, hugging him tightly. He fell into Lupin's strong embrace, and started to weep. He was crying so loudly and fully that he began to cough again, and soon, flecks of blood were once again flying from his mouth.

His throat ached again, and his head was still throbbing. People were again shouting around him, but the voices slowly started to fade again, and once more, he passed out, leaving them all behind.

He was once again in the black nothingness in his mind, and he was just standing in it, living in it, swirling in it. But again, he felt a sudden lurch in his head, and all of his memories started fading into his mind.

He was five, and already, he was washing dishes for the Dursley's at Number 4. He was at school, and he had somehow turned his teacher's wig blue, while all the kids behind him started laughing and his teacher advanced on him. He was nine and he was staying at Mrs. Figg's house, looking at pictures of all her old cats, inhaling the scent of old cabbages in the room.

He was now in his second year, and he was speaking in Parseltounge unknowingly to a snake that was advancing on Justin Finch-Fletchy. He was in his fourth year, and he was in the graveyard, Wormtail piercing his arm with a dagger, and taking his blood. Then he was once again in his fifth year, and he was staring determinedly at the paper in front of him, which had the words _'I must not tell lies'_ written on it in his blood. The desk around it was splattered with the red liquid, and his hand was bleeding freely and seething with pain.

Then, he was once again in the Department of Mysteries, watching Sirius and Bellatrix duel heatedly. Sirius was caught by the spell again, and had just left the ground, when Harry realized what he had to do. He couldn't stand to see this picture again, so summoning all of the energy he could, he shouted out, "STOP!"

Instantly, the memories faded, and he was looking at the room in front of him, his body completely aching again. Once again, he started to sob, and he pressed his hands to his face, weeping into them. Lupin was once again at his side, holding him in his arms.

"It's all right, Harry," he told him. "Just let it out. Let it all out." So, listening to Lupin's words, he did. All of the remaining pain that he had felt was now leaking out of him through his tears, and it felt so good to do this, to let everything out.

Finally, after he had been in Lupin's arms for a good fifteen minutes, he found that he couldn't cry anymore. Besides that, he felt like he was going to start coughing again, and he really didn't want to cough up anymore blood, so he stopped himself.

He looked into Lupin's face, seeing that those oceanic blue eyes were looking back down at him with worry and concern. "Thank-you," Harry said, his voice very faint and quiet, since it hurt his throat to talk. Lupin nodded his head, and then he pulled Harry into another hug. Harry wrapped his arms around him and hugged him back.

When they pulled apart, Harry noticed that they weren't the only ones in the room. Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore were also standing there, looking at he and Lupin, smiling, though Mrs. Weasley's eyes were red and showed signs of worry.

"Molly and Remus helped me clean you up," Dumbledore told Harry softly, and looking down, noticed that his arm and wrist were tightly bandaged. He looked up at them all, and looked a little guilty.

"Err, thanks Mrs. Weasley," he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.

"Of course, Harry dear," she said, and she walked over and pulled him into tight hug as well, to which Harry was grateful for. But the next thing she said came as a total shock to Harry, and he was quite unprepared for it.

"But you should also be thanking Professor Snape, Harry," she said, and Harry opened his eyes wide and loosened his grip on her. "He was the one that made the healing and blood-thickening potions for you."

Harry moved slowly out of Mrs. Weasley's grasp and looked over to the side of the room where Snape was standing, holding his wand unconsciously in his right hand. He seemed to be looking at Harry with an expression of slight worry on his face, probably because he figured that he would start screaming at him again.

However, Harry didn't start screaming. In fact, he just looked at his professor, and said in his quiet, raspy voice, "Thank-you," before looking back down at his hands and staring at them, suddenly finding them very interesting.

Harry heard someone moved, and looked up to see that Dumbledore had walked over to his bed. He looked at Harry's head, and frowned slightly. Harry suddenly realized that his scar was still in pain, and that there seemed to be a warm liquid running down his head.

"It's still bleeding," Dumbledore muttered, and Harry reached up to touch it. Upon doing so, his scar gave off a sharp pain, and he winced. He brought his hand down and looked at it, seeing the red liquid on it. He quickly wiped it off on the black pants that he was still wearing, realizing that they were already covered in blood anyway.

"Here, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said gently, and she flicked her wand, making the pants he was wearing change into a new, clean pair. He also had been granted a shirt, the same emerald green color as the pants. He smiled up weakly at Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you," he said. "Again."

She just smiled down at him, looking at him with flecks of worry still in her eyes. Then Dumbledore spoke up, and asked Harry something that was on everyone's minds.

"Harry, do you have any idea why your scar would be bleeding?" he asked, and Harry just shook his head. Dumbledore sighed. "So you don't remember Voldemort breaking into your mind at all?" As Harry shook his head again, Mrs. Weasley and Snape flinched at the name. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice this, however.

"Well, Professor Snape tried to break into your mind in order to find some of memory of that happening, but was unsuccessful, considering that you broke through it both times." Harry looked shocked, and turned to look at Snape, who was avoiding his gaze.

_Oh Merlin,_ Harry thought. _He's seen all of these other memories of mine that are embarrassing and painful, and now he's seen even more of them. Great. Just great. _Dumbledore had started talking again however, so Harry looked back at him.

"...and under the normal circumstances, we would have been happy that you would have been able to throw off the spell, but since we were looking for something, it wasn't what we wanted."

Harry nodded, understanding what Dumbledore had meant, even though he had only heard half of the last statement. But again, he was slightly unprepared for what Dumbledore next asked him.

"Harry, since you can't remember anything that would have happened to make your scar bleed, would it be asking to much to let Professor Snape try to get into your mind again?" he asked, and at Harry's look, he quickly added. "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't ask something like this, but considering that your scar has never bled before, and now that it has, and you can't remember anything, I think it would be wise to just to check your mind for something."

Harry was suddenly overcome with a feeling of worry, and he didn't know how to respond. He didn't want Snape breaking into his mind, and he surely did not want to see Sirius falling through the veil again, but on the other hand, he may be able to discover something. He was just so confused right now, and he wasn't sure how to respond.

Sensing what he was thinking, Lupin spoke up. "Don't worry, Harry," he said gently. "I'm sure that you won't see Sirius again, since Severus is going to be looking for something in particular. And even if it should pop up, you can have some control over your mind, and stop that image from continuing on."

Harry looked up into Lupin's eyes, and realized that he had to do this. He had to let Snape break into his mind, to see why his scar was bleeding. Anything to stop the pain that he was feeling in it right now. And anything that may help him in getting to Voldemort or to see what he was trying to do.

Slowly, Harry nodded his head, and Dumbledore smiled at him. "Well, it's settled then," he said to everyone. "Severus, if you'd step over here please."

Snape walked slowly over to Harry's bedside, looking like he'd rather do anything but this. He then looked up at Dumbledore to receive his next directions.

"Severus, you know how to part through his mind," Dumbledore said to Snape, raising his eyebrows slightly. Snape jerked his head and nodded, and then looked back at Harry. "Try to find something that could have been placed there by Voldemort."

Again, Snape jerked his head once up and down to show he understood, before Dumbledore turned to Harry, who was feeling remotely frightened by all of this.

"Harry," he said softly, his blue eyes looking deep into Harry's green ones. "Professor Snape is going to break into your mind, and try to stifle through your thoughts, trying to find ones that may be related to Voldemort. This means that you may see flashes of all of the times that you've faced Voldemort." Harry could feel his face growing red as he thought about this. Seeing Voldemort once was enough, but to see all of these things happen again; it was almost too much.

He almost shook his head and told Dumbledore to forget the whole thing, but knew that, as he had thought before, it had to be done. So, bracing himself, he nodded, and took a deep breath. He exhaled, and waited for Snape to start.

"Okay, Harry," Snape said, and Harry felt some relief from having Snape use his first name again. "I'm going to count to three, and then I'm going to enter your mind. Remember: you control your own thoughts as much as I'm going to be now."

Harry nodded his head slightly, and when Snape said, "Ready?" he closed his eyes and sat straight up. Then he heard Snape's voice say, "One, Two, Three – Legilimens!"

Harry suddenly started to see his thoughts playing in front of him, and all of them had to do with Voldemort. It started out when he was a baby. He was lying in his crib, his mother standing in front of him like a shield, when a shout was heard from the room beyond and the door opened.

Harry saw Voldemort standing there, looking just as he did nowadays, except he looked more – well, alive. He then saw him advance on his mother. She was pleading with him.

"No! Not Harry! Please don't take Harry!" she was screaming, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"Stand aside, you silly girl!" he yelled at her, though a smile was spreading on his lips. However, his mother kept pleading, and she screamed out again.

"No! Not Harry! Please don't kill Harry! Kill me instead, but don't kill Harry!"

Voldemort's smile grew wider, and he said, "You are making me impatient, you filthy little mudblood. No matter though..."

And with that, he screamed, "Avada Kedavra!" and his mother fell to the floor, dead. Then Voldemort stood there, laughing hysterically, before moving onto Harry.

"Oh, precious child," he said, and Harry could feel himself growing scared at the new face in front of him. "It's too bad that I have to kill you. You're so young. But when Lord Voldemort is threatened, he has to do something about it." And so, with that, he pointed his wand at Harry, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" for the third time that night.

However, unlike the other two times that he had used it, the curse didn't kill his supposed victim. Instead, Harry saw the flash of green light, and felt a pain in his forehead so intense he thought that it had exploded. But just before he passed out in his crib, he saw Voldemort fall to the floor, along with the rest of his house.

Harry suddenly felt the spell being lifted from him by Snape, and found that he was screaming out and sobbing again. Mrs. Weasley and Lupin were both next to him in an instant, holding him, and rocking him back and forth. Snape seemed too shocked to do anything, and Harry couldn't blame him. It even must have been hard for Snape to watch people like that being killed, even if he never really liked the people to begin with.

Harry was still sobbing, and was crying out, "No! No! Not my mom! No! Please!" Lupin and Mrs. Weasley were rocking him, holding him close, and both had tears in their eyes as well. However, where as Mrs. Weasley only had hers there because she felt horrible for Harry, Lupin had his there because he himself felt horrible as well. He had heard Harry screaming out, and knew that Harry had just seen his parents, two of Lupin's best friends, die right before his eyes.

Dumbledore walked over, and looked at Harry with his somber eyes. "Harry, I know how hard that was for you, and how hard it still will be, but I need you to try again." Here, all three of the other adults in the room just looked up at him and stared, and Harry could only guess that they were as shocked as he was at Dumbledore's words.

"Dumbledore, you can't make him do that again," Mrs. Weasley pleaded. "Don't you realize what he just saw? He hasn't seen this image since he was a baby, and he didn't need to see it again now. And he certainly can't, and doesn't need to, see any other battles with Voldemort."

"I'm afraid he must, Molly," Dumbledore said sadly, to which Lupin now started in.

"Albus," he said. "I have always respected you, so forgive me when I say that this is the worst idea that you've ever had." Harry would have laughed had the situation not been so serious, and had he not been sobbing uncontrollably at the moment. Even Snape stuck in his two cents, something no one thought he would ever do.

"Headmaster," he said, his face again more white than usual. "I do not think that I can do that again. Even for myself, that was more than I needed to see."

Dumbledore sighed, and just said simply, "It has to be done."

"But Dumbledore!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "You can't do this to him!" But then, from somewhere deep inside of himself, Harry suddenly found the courage to go on. He brought out the true Gryffindor in himself, and said, "I'll do it."

Everyone stopped and stared at him, and then Dumbledore smiled softly. "That's it, Harry," he said, and motioned for Snape to move over to him. Snape did so, looking at Harry with awe. But he quickly regained his composure, and said, "On the count of three, then. One, two, three – Legilimens!"

Harry was once again enveloped in his old thoughts. He was under the trapdoor at Hogwarts, in the depths of the school, and was fighting Quirrel. He had grabbed the man's face, which was becoming blistered and raw. However, it wasn't long before the image changed. It seemed as if Snape was going through his thoughts faster now. He was now in the Chamber of Secrets, and he had the basilisk fang in his hand, stabbing the diary with it, while he watched Tom Riddle disappear. Then he was back in the graveyard, and he had heard his parents scream, "NOW!" to him, and he lifted his wand, making the golden ball of light connecting himself and Voldemort hit the Dark Lord full on.

Then came the moment he had been dreading. He was again in the Department of Mysteries, and he was watching Bellatrix and Sirius duel. Sirius was hit by the spell, and was flying backwards, but Harry was determined not to see it again. So, concentrating as hard as he could, he forced the image out of his mind, and Snape was able to move to the next one. He was lying on the ground in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic, and Dumbledore was in front of him, when a sudden force took over his body, making his body feel like it was on fire.

A voice was ringing out through his mouth that was not his own, telling Dumbledore to kill him. But he didn't, and finally the force left him there, lying on the floor, before becoming unconscious,

Then, the thought changed again, and Harry suddenly found himself looking at a memory he didn't remember, although it seemed to be that day. As he watched it, he suddenly gasped, and Snape lifted the spell. Harry's eyes opened wide, and he looked over at Snape, who was looking back at him with shock.

"What happened?" Lupin asked hurriedly. "Did you find something?" Slowly, Harry nodded his head, not believing what he had just seen.

_A/N2: All right, well, that's the end of the chapter. I'll try to get the next one up tomorrow, but I'm not making any promises. Anyway, please, please, please review, since that makes me happy, which in turn makes me update faster. And thank-you to all of the people who reviewed the last two chapters – it means a lot, and I am eternally grateful to you for it! _

_May you have all the gold you can eat,_

_SiriusBlack4Ever_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I'm happy to know that ou're all still following this story, despite that I had a lack of updates for quite a while. Since you're all so nice, I updated this chapter today just for you all! Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: Do I even have to say it...? All right, all right...I don't own Harry Potter..._

Chapter 7

Snape had unwillingly been forced to break into Harry's mind again, something he really didn't want to do. He didn't want to look at all of the boy's thoughts; they were all so personal, all his own. And they were all so depressing! It was still a shock to see how horrible his life was. Snape had already had plenty of experiences in knowing how bad Harry's life had been, but it still came as a shock to him somehow whenever he learned some other bad thing about the boy's life.

Most people probably thought that, even if not now, that last school year when he had Occlumency lessons with him that he loved seeing all of Harry's horrible memories. But the truth was, no matter how hard he tried to make himself think of it that way, deep down, he had always hated breaking into Harry's mind.

He never really pitied the boy just because he had suffered all this in general, but he had pitied him because a lot of this suffering was done by somewhere that he 'worked for'. He 'worked' for Voldemort, who was, if you traced it all back, the root of all of Harry's problems, all of his sufferings. And Snape hated seeing all of these memories of his when he was up against this boy.

Snape could really feel for him when he saw these memories of the Dark Lord and Potter. He could feel Harry's fear when he was standing up against him, though he also could feel his determination to prove that he wasn't a weakling. Snape could relate to all of Harry's memories in this way, and it had always made it all the more reason not to break into his mind.

But he had known now that there was no other way, especially since Harry had that determined look in his eye to do it, so he had gone up to him and had broken into his mind. He expected just to find all of the normal memories there, and was slightly shocked when Harry fought off the memory of Sirius. However, nothing could have prepared him for the shock that he was about to receive.

He was sorting through his thoughts, and had just gotten past the one with Sirius, when he found one from that present day. He thought that it was just one of Harry cutting himself, and he didn't really want to see it, so he made to push past it. However, something about it caught his eye, so he quickly focused on the memory.

Once he found out what was going on, he quickly let go of the spell and looked into Harry's face, entirely surprised. It appeared that Harry was just as shocked as he was, because his face matched exactly what Snape thought his to look like.

"What happened?" Lupin asked hurriedly. "Did you find something?" Slowly, Harry nodded his head, his eyes still wide.

"Well," Lupin pressed, "what was it?" When Harry failed to answer, he looked over at Snape. Snape, though, was also too alarmed and confused to speak, so he turned back to Harry.

"Do I need to bring out some Veritasserum?" he asked, getting impatient. "What the bloody hell did you find?"

Finally, Harry seemed to find his voice, though it was very small and slightly strained. "Voldemort," was all he said.

Lupin's eyes grew wide, and he glanced at Dumbledore. Dumbledore turned his blue eyes on Harry, and said, "Can you tell us what happened?"

Harry started to shake his head, but he must have realized that they would keep pestering him until he did, so he sighed and said, "All right," in a defeated sort of tone. Snape felt bad about this, considering that he could tell them all for Harry, but yet Harry was the one being the adult and doing the sharing. However, Harry had started talking, so he shook the thoughts from his head and looked up at him.

"Well, when Professor Snape was sifting through my mind, he came upon a memory of today, and it looked, even to me, like it could have been any time today when I was, err, cutting myself." He paused here a moment to think some, but then continued on. "But then I noticed that my wrist was bleeding a lot, and that I already had the mark on my arm, meaning that I had already cut myself up there. However, I distinctly remember passing out right after that, but not before I dropped the blade on the floor. So I knew for a fact then that this occurred after I passed out."

"But you didn't wake up again until everyone came into your room, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, confused.

"Exactly," Harry said to her. "Which means that someone had to have been controlling my mind when I was doing this. And it became apparent that someone was, for after that, a voice spoke out through my mouth that was not my own."

Here, Snape noticed that Harry had grown quiet, and didn't look like he wanted to talk anymore. So, stepping forward, he tried to finish the statement.

"It appeared as though someone was using the Imperius Curse on Harry, but since he had passed out before it occured, he didn't know it, or was at least to weak to do anything about it," Snape told them, seeing everyone's looks turn to shock. "So, anyway, the voice spoke out, telling Harry to pick up the glass, which he did. Then it told him to – to, err – to cut his forehead. Right on his scar."

Mrs. Weasley and Lupin both gasped, and Dumbledore's face only became sullen. "It would appear as though the Dark Lord is aware of Harry's little, err, problem, and decided to make the 'best' of it," Snape told them all. No one seemed to be able to speak. Finally, Harry spoke up in a voice that sounded as though he wanted to relieve the tension in the room.

"Well, that just sucks then, doesn't it?" he said quite brightly for such a depressing situation. No one laughed at this statement, however. In fact, Lupin said, "Harry, this isn't a laughing matter."

Snape saw Harry's eyes grow a little darker, and he seemed to be slightly angry. "Well, I'm sorry I was trying to ease the situation some," he said irritably. "Besides, if I think it's a laughing matter, then it's my choice. After all, if I might remind you, this is _my_ problem that we're dealing with here."

"Yes, but that's the thing, Harry," Lupin said back. "_We're_ dealing with it, not just you."

"But it still is _my_ problem, meaning that if I don't want anyone else to have anything to do with it, then they won't," Harry told him, and everyone in the room raised their eyebrows, including Lupin. Snape was finally glad to see someone besides himself harp on Lupin, and make him feel inferior.

Harry must have suddenly realized what he said, however, and much to Snape's disappointment, he apologized. "I'm sorry, Professor," he told him. "I didn't mean to say that to you. Really, I am grateful for your help; it's just, there's so much going on right now."

Lupin smiled slightly at him. "Apology accepted," he said, and Harry smiled back. "However," Lupin added, looking suddenly stern, and Harry's eyes grew wide. "I'll only accept it if you promise to call me Remus from now on. I hate being called Professor – it's too formal."

Harry smiled again, and then pretended to look crestfallen. "I guess if I have to, then I will."

Lupin – or Remus, as he now asked Harry to call him – smiled wider, and Snape felt as though he was going to be sick.

"Well, I hate to ruin the mood," he said sarcastically, and both Remus and Harry stopped and glanced over at him. "But shouldn't we try to find a solution to this situation?"

"I agree," Mrs. Weasley said aloud. "I think that Harry should be kept inside so that he can be watched by others at all times."

Harry's eyes suddenly showed fear, and Snape thought he knew why. His assumption was clarified when Harry next spoke.

"No," he said, as if stepping into a horrible memory again. "No, please don't have me locked up and watched. Please, don't. I don't ever want to do that again. Please, don't do that. Please."

His eyes had once again become misty, and Snape felt a pang of hurt for the boy in front of him. It was clear that he was thinking about last summer when he had been cooped up inside, and was also thinking of Sirius, when he had refused to be cooped up any longer and had gone after Harry, only to get himself killed.

"Do not worry, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "We won't have you locked up all summer." Snape breathed a small sigh of relief that was undetected by all the others. "However," he said, and here Snape sucked the air back in. "We will need to have you watched. We don't want to have something like this happening again, and I'm afraid that if you're on your own for two long, that may just be the case."

Harry nodded his head, obviously understanding what had to be done. "And," Dumbledore added. "I want you to continue your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. But, instead of only once a week, I want you to be doing it everyday instead. It's most important that you learn it now, and you learn it as quickly as possible."

Snape thought that Harry would explode at Dumbledore for saying that, but he just nodded, and shared a quick glance with Snape.

"Well, I suppose that's it," he said. "It's getting late now, and if she's well, I'd like to have Madame Pomfrey bandage up your scar. And I know that your friends are waiting anxiously to see you. I will let them in as soon as Poppy finishes. Good day to you all," he finished, and he smiled around at everyone and left the room.

Snape looked back over at Harry, who was staring up at him. "Well, Potter, I suggest that you rest as much as possible. As Dumbledore said, you should start Occlumency again quickly, and I think that, if all is well, we should start right away tonight."

Harry nodded, and then, without sparing him another glance, Snape quickly walked out of the room.

It was dinnertime, and Snape had, for the very first time, remained at Headquarters for it. He normally would have left beforehand, but since he would be doing Occlumency lessons with Harry, he thought that he might as well just stay.

But that didn't mean that he was going to eat with everyone else; no, he had his food brought upstairs and ate in the study while he went over some Order papers. He was sitting there for a while, when suddenly a voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Professor?" it asked, and Snape jumped. He turned around to see Potter – err, Harry – standing in the doorway, with a white strip of Medical Spell-o-tape over his scar.

"Err, I'm sorry," he muttered, looking down. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine, Harry," he said, and stood up. "Err, where would you prefer to work?" he asked him, not sure what the answer should be.

"Here is fine," Harry told him, and Snape nodded. He walked over to the center of the room, and motioned for Harry to follow. He did, and positioned himself directly in front of Snape, only he was about three feet away.

"Now," Snape said to him, taking out his wand, and Harry did the same. "You know the procedure: I count to three and place the spell on you, and you use whatever means you can to rid yourself of the spell, all right?"

Harry nodded his head again. "All right," he said, and he readied himself for the spell that was about to be placed upon him. Snape steadied himself as well, and concentrated on the boy in front of him.

"Okay," he said, pointing his wand at Harry, who closed his eyes in concentration. "One, two, three – Legilimens!"

Suddenly, Snape was seeing flashes of memories that were not his own. The first memory that he saw showed someplace that looked like the Forbidden Forest, and in front of him, on the ground, he could see a cloaked figure drinking from a small, silver puddle. Then he found himself watching Harry fly through the air, with a Bludger flying after him, before hitting him on the arm and nearly knocking him off his broom. A hundred or so Dementors were now suddenly gliding in around Harry, Hermione, and none other than Sirius Black, and he saw that Harry was making feeble attempts to stun them with a Patronus charm.

Then, a noise erupted from in front of the real him, and he looked up and saw that Harry was shouting something.

"STOP!" he heard Harry yell, and suddenly, with a great force, the spell was removed. Snape stared at him with a mixture of shock and surprise on his face. Harry was standing there, clutching his chest, looking like he had just run a marathon; and yet, he had done it. He had thrown off the curse.

"Well done, Harry," he told him, and Harry smiled. Even Snape knew that a compliment was rare from himself. "It appears that all of those lessons didn't go to waist. Though it still took you three memories to do it, you successfully threw off the curse, and what's more is that you did it without your wand."

Harry smiled wider. "Yeah, well, I've seen enough of these memories lately, and I don't feel like seeing anymore, so I figured I might as well make them stop."

Snape grinned slightly, another rare occurence for him, and then quickly held up his wand again. "Shall we see if young Mister Potter can do it again?" he asked, and Harry bobbed his head up and down, preparing himself. "One, two, three – Legilimens!" Snape shouted, and this time, he had only made it passed the first memory before Harry threw off the curse, again yelling, "STOP!".

Over and over again they did it, until Harry could successfully throw it off without even giving Snape a chance to see his memories or thoughts. Snape made to put his wand away to stop, but Harry cried out, "No! Just wait! Can we please do it a few more times? I think I may be able to do it without shouting this time!"

Snape was having a hard time restraining himself from grinning; he never thought he'd see the day when Harry Potter would want to spend more time with him than needed.

"I think that that is enough for today, Harry," he said, and Harry just asked him again.

"Please?" he asked, putting on a pouting face, his voice pleading. "Please just try once more? I know that I can do it this time!"

Again, Snape tried hard not to give in, but this was just too hard. Merlin, how he hated it when people pouted like that. Besides, Harry seriously wanted to do this, so Snape finally agreed.

"All right," he said. "But only once more!" Harry grinned and positioned himself. Snape pulled his wand back out, and said, "One, two, three – Legilimens!" He had only had it there for a second though, when the curse suddenly was lifted from Harry. However, instead of just stopping, Snape felt the familiar sensation in his head, and saw memories that were not Harry's flying through his mind.

He was sitting in a big, empty room, staring at the wall in front of him, thinking about how much he hated his life. Then he was suddenly in a larger room, much like a hall, kneeling before the Dark Lord with his arm outstreched , waiting to be branded. The memory suddenly changed again, and he was sitting in his room, still quite young, as he clenched a small knife in his hand, before placing it over his rwist and pressing down.

Finally, Snape seemed to realize what was going on, and shouted, "ENOUGH!" just as he had that night almost half a year ago when Harry had last broken into his thoughts. He stared at the boy in front of him, who had fallen to the ground. Harry stared up into Snape's face, his eyes completely opened and wide as could be. Snape felt his face grow red, and then turned on his heel and walked from the room, Harry's shouts becoming fainter with each step.

_A/N2: All right, that's the end. I'll try to update again on Sunday night with the next chapter, since I'll be gone this weekend. Thank-you to those that review this chapter, and to those that reviewed the last:_

_To yellowpages: I'm glad that you remember this story, and that you like it so much! And to answer your question, no, I'm not from Britain – I'm actually from Minnesota, in the USA. Britishisma...hmm...interesting word...I'm going to take that whole line as a compliment..._

_To foolishangel87: Glad to know that you still like it! And I'm think I'm going to take the crying part as a compliment – correct if it should be the other way around. Thank-you so much for the review!_

_Earendil'sgirl: lol. All right, so I got just a wee bit exaggerated...okay, make that really over exaggerated. I have actually discovered that all myself, and so have other people that have read this story on different sites. I apologize for being unrealistic, but this is the oringinal story, and I'm just going to leave it the way it is. I appreciate the review. _

_To selua: lol. Yes, I had to end that one. But that's what 'angst' is all about, isn't it? Glad to know you like it!_

_To Read300300: Thanks for the review, and glad to know you like the story!!_

_As I said, please review. Those are always appreciated!_

_Hugs,_

_SiriusBlack4Ever_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: If I owned it, why would I be spending my time writing this crap when I could be lounging in my swimming pool full of Oreos? My point exactly. _

_A/N: Yeah, so, I have been neglecting my account on this site for a long time...what can I say, I happen to be a little more involved on a different fanfiction site... Okay, so that's a lame excuse... Anyway, I suppose a chapter is better late than never, right? RIGHT?...Well, if any of you are still with me, enjoy this chapter, and if you'd be so kind, let me know what you think. Even if that means twenty different flames, well...I deserve it. lol. Anyway, please enjoy reading the chapter!_

Chapter 8

Harry wasn't sure what had just happened. He had once again broken into Snape's mind without intention, but it had been different this time. For one thing, he hadn't used a wand to do it; he had used his mind. For another, he had seen a very shocking memory of Snape's. Yes, the others that he had seen had been shocking, but this was a different kind of shocking. This – this was too much for words.

Harry couldn't believe it – Snape was a cutter! Though, with this, everything made sense now. He had been upset with Harry for cutting himself, because he obviously knew what could happen. Thinking of this made Harry realize something else as well.

Snape must have really cared for him, or at least for his well being, because he was obviously worried for him. And, if he really was worried about what Harry would end up doing to himself, Harry was certain that it was because he had experienced all of this before.

But he was still having trouble believing it all; I mean, Snape – a cutter! Who would have thought? Harry was wondering why he hadn't noticed the marks before, though. Then he realized that Snape always wore long robes that covered his arms and wrists, and occasionally even part of his hands.

But then, he _had_ rolled up his sleeve after the Triwizard Tournament to show the mark on his arm to Fudge, and even then he hadn't noticed anything else. Harry was becoming completely confused now. He was sure that he had seen Snape cutting himself in his memory, but he was also sure that he _not_ seen any marks on his wrist after the Tournament. So what was going on?

He got up off the floor where he had been sitting since Snape had broken the connection between the two and sent him flying, and made his way out the door. He walked into the hallway, and then heard a voice call his name.

"Harry?" it asked, and he turned to see Hermione standing a few feet away, looking up at him.

"Hermione, did you see which way Snape went?" he asked, before looking up and down the hallway.

"Err, yes," she said slowly. "He went down the stairs and was headed for the entryway. But why do you need to know-"

But just then, she was cut off by a noise from downstairs. They heard a door slam shut, and Harry knew at once that Snape had left. Quickly turning away from Hermione, he ran down the stairs, and went halfway down the next set before jumping over the banister and hitting the floor.

He then ran to the front door, and threw it open. He saw Snape billowing down the front walk, robes flying out behind him. He quickly ran after him, just as he turned into the street, and shouted, "Professor!"

Harry knew that Snape had heard him, but he never made any indication that he had. He just kept walking away. "Professor!" Harry shouted again, still running towards him. Again, he just kept walking. Harry was beginning to get mad now.

"Professor, stop and turn your lazy arse around so that I can talk to you!" he yelled, and instantly, Snape stopped. Harry finished running the remaining three feet or so towards him while Snape spun around. Harry was panting slightly, but he could tell that he had made Snape angry.

"What did you say, Potter?" he asked him, the gloomy streetlight casting an eerie glow around him.

"I told you to turn your lazy arse around so that I could talk to you," Harry replied forcefully. "Now what was that that I saw back there?" he asked him. Snape didn't appear to want to answer though, and just turned around and started to walk away again. Harry was practically fuming – why wouldn't Snape talk to him?

He never even stopped to consider that he wasn't holding a wand, nor that he was aloud to do magic outside of school and was in an area inhabited by muggles. He just let his anger get the better of him, and he shouted, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

A bright light seemed to shoot out of the palm of Harry's hand, and hit Snape square in the back. Harry gasped and yelled as his Professor's limbs tightened up and he fell to the ground.

"Oh my Merlin!" Harry yelled out, running over to Snape's locked form on the ground. He paused at his side and threw himself on the ground muttering the countercurse. Snape immediately gained control of his limbs again, and quickly sat up. Harry stood, and offered his hand to Snape, who brushed it away.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you were doing?" he spat the moment he had stood. He quickly looked around them, and then whispered while continuing on. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you can make by doing this? Not only did you use a spell on one of your Professors', but you also performed it in an area that was surrounded by muggles."

"Yeah, and now the Ministry knows about it," Harry said flatly. Snape sighed.

"No, they don't, Harry," he said, and Harry looked up at him with wide eyes. "Dumbledore somehow fixed it so that the Ministry doesn't know when you use magic. He thought you may need it now, considering that he thought you may need to use your wand quite often out of school now."

Harry just stared at him, totally surprised. But then something else clicked in his mind, and he quickly said, "But I didn't use my wand." Snape stared back down at him, confusion spread throughout his pail face, and said, "What do you mean you didn't use your wand?"

"I mean, I didn't use my wand," Harry told him. "I didn't really even notice that I didn't have my wand. I just said the incantation, and the spell just sort of shot out of my hand."

Snape seemed to be shocked, surprised, scared, and in awe all at once. "You mean, you used wandless magic?" he asked him hurriedly, and Harry just nodded.

"It's not the first time," he said. "I've done it quite a few times, actually. In fact, I did it this morning when you had your hands on my shoulder and I burned them and yeah..." His voice slowly faded out as he got towards the end of his sentence.

Snape seemed to be a little hesitant about talking about the subject, but must have quickly overcome the feeling, because he said, "Yes, but its quite common for a wizard of witch to use wandless magic like that when they are angered or hurt. But to just do it out of the blue like that, that's a different story."

"Yes, but I was angry," Harry said to him. "I was mad because, well, I didn't think that you wanted to talk to me, and I wanted to find out what was going on and all, and so I said the spell."

Again, Snape seemed slightly hesitant, but still went on. "Well, yes, you were angry, but this is still different."

"How so?" Harry asked him, slightly puzzled.

"Well, all the others times that you've done it, you never said a spell, right? It just sort of came out, didn't it?" he asked, and Harry nodded, beginning to understand what Snape was getting at. "But this time, you knew what you were doing, and had complete control over the spell. And it didn't just happen, either. You said the incantation, knowing full well what it did. Harry, this is _real_ wandless magic."

It was now Harry's turn to feel shocked again. "So, does that mean that I can, you know," he paused a minute, trying to just comprehend what he was saying. "Do magic without my wand whenever I want to?"

"Well, I don't know," Snape told him. "I'd say yes, but it's a very complicated thing to do. You'll be able to do it sometimes, but I don't know if you'll be able to do it all the time."

Harry nodded again, and then said, "Can I try it again?"

"Well, if you're going to do it again, we have to go inside first, because we are still in the presence of muggles," Snape told him. "And, I don't think that you should do it again until Dumbledore has been informed. We need to be absolutely certain that the Ministry won't be able to detect this, either."

Harry, for what seemed like the thousandth time, nodded his head. Then he started to speak again. "Professor?" he asked, and Snape looked full on into his face. "Err, do you want to, err, talk?"

Snape sighed slightly, and Harry was sure that he knew what it was he was really asking. "Yes, Harry, I believe that we should talk," he said quietly. "Go upstairs and wait in your room. I'm going to go contact Dumbledore and let him know what just happened, so that we can see if you can use your, err, _powers_," he said, and Harry, once again nodding, walked up to the house, Snape trailing along behind him.

When they reached the staircase inside, Harry went upstairs and Snape continued on to go down to the kitchen, so that he could Floo Dumbledore. Harry walked up the steps to his room, and pushed open his bedroom door. Upon stepping into the room, the lights flicked on, and he gasped slightly. His room hadn't been cleaned since he had first placed the knife to his wrist, and for the first time, he noticed all of the blood.

When he had gotten up earlier, he had slipped out of bed, and made his way through the darkened room to the door. Since there were no lights on, he hadn't seen anything – he just walked through by memory. Then he quietly had gone into the hallway, making his way to the bathroom. Once inside, he had stripped off his wet and stained clothing, before getting into the shower and washing all of the blood off of his body.

He then undid his bandages, and threw them away, before washing out all of the deep cuts he had made on himself. It had stung horribly, but he did it anyway, until they were clean as he could make them. Then he had stepped back out of the shower, dried himself off, and had taken some more Medical Spell-O-Tape and covered his wounds. He didn't bother covering his scar, though, since it looked the same, just a lot more red and a little swollen.

He had just borrowed some of Ron's clothes, since his room was right there, and then had gone down to the kitchen to eat dinner. Now, Harry was back in his room again, and he was shocked at how much blood he must have lost. He thought that, had he been able to, he would have died from blood loss.

The sheets were no longer white, but dark, deep crimson, and the floor next to his bed showed a puddle of the red liquid there. This puddle was nothing, though, compared to everything at the foot of his bed. There, on the floor, was a small pool of blood, that looked as thought it covered an area of about two feet, and Harry realized that all of that had come from just his wrist in a matter of about twenty minutes.

He almost gagged, just seeing all of his blood spread out like this. It made him sick to know that he had done this to himself; and yet, he thought that if things didn't get better for him, he might find himself doing this again.

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, and Harry jumped a bit at the sudden voice. "Quite a bit, huh?" it said, and Harry looked up to see Snape standing over him, staring down at him with a look of sympathy on his face.

"Err, yeah," Harry said, and Snape continued looking down at him.

"Dumbledore said that you could use your new, err, _power_," Snape said, once again accenting the power part. "In fact, he encourages you to use it. Said it might come in handy later on, and I believe he's right. He seemed quite fascinated by it actually, though he didn't seem entirely surprised."

Harry smiled slightly, and moved a little into the room. Snape followed, and was about to clean up the blood, his wand in front of him, when there was a mutter of, _"Evanesco,"_ from Harry, and the blood was all suddenly gone. Snape turned to see Harry there, his right hand outstretched, and Harry smiled up at him. Snape smiled back.

"Well, I see that you're quite good at doing that already," he said, and Harry smiled slightly again. Then Snape motioned for Harry to sit down in the chair by the window, and he quickly moved over to it and did so. Once he was seated, Snape conjured up his own chair, and moved it to face Harry, before sitting down. Once he too was seated, he stared into Harry's eyes, until Harry felt like he couldn't stand it anymore and averted his gaze.

"Well, I'm sure you want to know about what you saw in my memories earlier," Snape said, and Harry was surprised that he was being so straightforward right away. Harry just faced Snape again, and looked into his eyes, giving him his full attention. Snape took in a deep breath, and plowed ahead.

"Well, you already know that I worked – and still am working, in a sort of way – for the Dark Lord," he shuddered slightly, and Harry knew he was thinking of Voldemort. Harry knew what it was like facing him, but could only imagine what it was like working for him. However, he quickly shook his thoughts as Snape continued on.

"Anyway, I started working for him a long time ago, back when I was in my seventh year at Hogwarts," Snape told him, and Harry gasped. He didn't know that people could be accepted that young. He thought they would have been out of school at least.

"Yes, I was still at Hogwarts," Snape said, as though reading Harry's mind – which, Harry reminded himself, was totally probable. "You see," Snape continued, "people can become Death Eaters as soon as they turn sixteen. I, however, waited a year first. I wasn't sure that it was really something that I wanted to do, but after all of the hell that I went through at Hogwarts during my Sixth Year, well, let's just say that I thought this might help me a bit."

"Well, about a year after I had joined the Dark Lord's service, I found out that it wasn't at all what I had heard it to be. I hated it, and I didn't want to be in it anymore. But, stepping out just isn't something that you want to do, especially if you've just joined. You know what happened to your godfather's brother, Regulus. Well, I didn't want that happening to me, so I stayed."

Again, he shuddered, and he waited a few minutes before continuing on. "I had such a horrible time with the Death Eaters, that I found myself wishing myself dead on more than a few occasions. However, Voldemort placed a curse on all of us, so that we couldn't do that. He would only let us get so far in inflicting pain upon ourselves, before it would all just stop and, try as you might, you couldn't get any closer to death. Of course, anyone else could kill you, you just couldn't kill yourself."

Snape again stopped, and looked down, running a hand through his greasy hair. When he spoke, his voice was much quieter than it had been before. "That was about the time that I started to cut myself," he said quietly. "I don't remember really much about it, except that it was painful, and I enjoyed it, only wishing to do more than I could. The only two times that stick out distinctly were the very first time, and the very last time."

"I'll never forget the first time I cut myself," he said, getting a glossy look to his eyes. "It still haunts me to this day. It was a year after I had graduated from Hogwarts, and I had just gotten back from a Death Eater meeting, where I had been placed under the Cruciatus Curse. I was terribly upset, and my whole body ached. I wanted to die just then and there, and when I walked into the kitchen of my home, I saw a knife sitting on the counter. I didn't even think about what I was doing. I just picked it up, as if it were calling to me, and I went up to my room."

"There, I sat down on my bed, and I took out the knife. I stared at it for a while, looking at it gleaming in the light, and then I pressed it over my wrist. I felt the pain, and I even screamed, but for once, I welcomed it."

Harry could see tears forming in Snape's eyes as he said this, and felt suddenly bad for him. "I can remember waking up in the morning, my bed looking much like yours, though not quite as bad, and still clutching the knife in my hand. I started cutting myself daily after that, until I finally went back to Dumbledore. One night, after I had talked to him, he showed up at my house while I was doing this nightly ritual of mine, and stopped me. He had a long talk with me, and from that night on, I have not cut myself once. I've had the urge to many times, but I haven't done it."

Harry smiled slightly, but warmly up at Snape, and he said, "Thank you for telling me this. It means a lot to me to know that you would share something like that with me."

Snape just looked at him, and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. But there was still one question that Harry had for him.

"Err, Professor?" he asked, and Snape glanced over at him again. "Err, if you don't mind telling me, how is it that you cover up your scars?"

Snape let out a small, hollow laugh. "Concealment Charm," he said. "It covers up all the scars so that I don't get asked too many annoying questions. But there's one scar that the Charm won't cover..."

His voice faded, and he shuddered slightly again, and Harry knew exactly which scar he happened to be talking about.

Shaking his head slightly, as though to rid his mind of the thought, Snape made to get up. But for the second time that day, Harry grabbed his arm.

"Wait," he said. "I want to tell you my story."

_A/N2: Well, like I said, if you're still with me, let me know what you thought of the chapter. Thanks much to all of the reviews from the last chapter - they're greatly appreciated! I'll try to pay a bit more attention to this site from now on...blushes Sorry about the wait!_

_ Later taters,_

_SiriusBlack4Ever _


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Umm…if you haven't caught on by now, then I'm surprised that you know how to even read. I don't own Harry Potter and co._

_A/N1: All right, this is the last chapter of this story. Wow, taken me long enough. Anyway, this is a trilogy, and I'm currently trying to finish up the third story, meaning I will (eventually) be posting the sequel here, along with the sequel to that. Kinda a mushy ending to this one – not what I was expecting, but the characters upped and ran off with the plot, so… Anyway, read on._

Chapter 5

Snape looked down into Harry's face as he got up, not quite sure that he had heard him right. He was sure that the boy hadn't told anyone else this yet, and was surprised that he wanted to tell him. But Harry's eyes were again filled with determination, so he sat back down across from him.

Harry, like always when he was about to go into something personal, sat there for a few minutes, thinking about what he was going to say. Snape sat in the chair, waiting patiently for him to go on.

"Well, I haven't told this to anyone yet, so I'm not sure how to begin," he started, and Snape was only mildly surprised when he said he hadn't told anyone yet, since it was what he had just assumed.

"Start wherever you feel comfortable," Snape told him, and Harry gave one nod.

"Well, I suppose it starts with Sirius dying," he said quietly, and Snape felt a pang of guilt ring inside of him.

"Harry," he said suddenly. "You don't have to talk about this."

"But I want to," Harry told him. "I know that this has been inside of me for too long already, and I know that if I don't tell someone, I may end up hurting myself again."

Snape backed down, and again just rested in the chair, looking at Harry.

"Anyway," Harry said. "Like I said, it all started when Sirius died. After I – I watched him go through the v-veil, I felt like I was going to die. I felt so lost and alone and confused. And then I felt angry and mad. I felt so much hatred towards Bellatrix, who had done that to him, that I chased her out of the Death Chamber and all the way up into the lobby, where I used the Cruciatus Curse on her."

Again, Snape saw that Harry's eyes had clouded over, and he was suddenly a bit scared of him again. To hear someone who was fifteen and didn't work for Voldemort say that they used the Cruciatus Curse willingly, and speak about it with such hatred was slightly alarming.

"After I used the Curse, and I found out that it didn't do hardly anything to her, I was pissed. I felt like I wanted to do it again, but I was slightly scared of her, since she had just tried to use it on me. And believe me, I had been hit with it enough times to know not to mess around too long with someone who wanted to use it on you."

Snape again felt sympathy for the boy, considering that again, he was so young, and he had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse numerous times already.

"Anyway, then Voldemort showed up-" Snape shuddered at the name, but Harry didn't seem to notice, "-and so did Dumbledore, and they dueled and whatever, and then I went back to Dumbledore's office. There he told me everything that he had been denying me since my first year at Hogwarts, and I got really angry again. I didn't see how he could have just told me all of that, and still could have been so calm, when he knew how bad it was hurting me. He didn't seem to understand how I was feeling that night, and I fell even deeper into the hole of despair I had dug for myself."

"Then, I had to go back to the Dursley's, and they just made my life even worse. While they didn't talk to me much, since they were afraid that someone from the Order would come and kill them all, they still gave me horrible looks and gestures every time that they saw me. But without talking to anyone, I was becoming not only more distant with everyone else, but also myself. I didn't sleep for days after Sirius died, and even after I did start to sleep, my dreams were flooded with pictures of him falling through the veil. During the night, I longed for the day when I wouldn't see Sirius, and during the day, I longed for the night when I could just sleep everything off."

"Finally, when Lupin came and picked me up, I was happy. I would finally be going someplace where people loved me. But the thing was, nobody seemed to want to act in the right way. The only thing I ever heard was, 'Harry, are you okay?', and 'I know what you're going through'. But they never did know what I was going through. I was tired of all the pointless questions and statements, so I locked myself in my room all the time, and just sat and stared at the floor, or the wall, or the window, or whatever seemed pleasing that day."

Snape continued to stare at Harry, whose eyes now filled with soft tears. He sat there for another minute before continuing on. "Then, finally, this morning when I was talking to you, I think everything just sort of went haywire. Everything that I had been feeling for the past few weeks since Sirius died, and all of the pain leftover from the last school year, just came flooding out. Everything had been bottled up for so long that it just boiled over, and I felt like screaming, and letting it all out. So that was when I blew up at you."

Harry smiled slightly sheepishly up at Snape, and again continued. "But that wasn't enough. No, if at all possible, it made it worse. Since I hadn't gotten everything out, everything that was leftover just seemed to grow twice the size that it was, and I suddenly felt so helpless, so alone, that I felt like someone had once again been taken from me. The only thing that I could think of doing was hurting myself; causing pain upon myself to make sure that I was still alive, to make sure that I could still get rid of the anger."

"So, I found a piece of glass from the broken mirror that Sirius had given me, and doing the only thing that seemed logical at the time, I placed it over my wrist, and cut. In that short amount of time, I felt just like how you described yourself feeling; in pain, but pleased all the same. I felt like I had just opened up this trunk that was holding in all of my bad memories, and as each drop of blood flew out from the wound, I felt like another one of my sorrows was leaving the trunk and floating away."

Snape couldn't believe that Harry was saying these things. It was all exactly the same feelings that he had when he had been cutting himself, and to hear Harry say them made it seem like he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one feeling the pain. But something was still racking his brain, and he didn't think that it would stop until he asked the question.

"But Harry," he said slowly and quietly. "Why did you use the Cruciatus Curse on yourself?"

Harry's tear-filled eyes grew slightly wide as he looked at Snape, and when he spoke, it was with a choking voice that made Snape further sympathize him.

"I didn't want anyone to know what I was doing to myself. It was a private matter only to be known by me. But when everyone found out, I suddenly got that same feeling again. The one where everyone said they were sorry for me, but that they only said that because they thought it was appropriate for the situation and because they thought I wouldn't do it again. So then I cut myself in front of everyone. But then Lupin took the blade, and threw it away, and I knew that it was really wrong, and I knew – or I thought I knew – that I wanted to stop."

"But then when you said you were going to get Dumbledore, I didn't want to stop. I couldn't stop. Dumbledore, at that time, was the last person that I wanted to know about what I had done. The thought of him being so calm the night Sirius had died and all of the things he had said to me were still fresh in my mind, and I didn't want him to be here, in fear that he would lecture me and tell me something else that he's been hiding from me all these past years. So, again, to prove my point, I wanted to hurt myself. But since I didn't have a knife this time, I just used the Pain Curse on myself instead. Not that that was any better of an idea, but..."

Slowly, Harry trailed off, and he was just left there, sitting with the tears still in his eyes.

"Harry," Snape said carefully. "Thank-you for telling me your story. You don't know how much that means to me, to know that you trust me enough to tell me this; in fact, to be the first one you tell."

Harry quietly nodded his head, before the tears started to spill over his cheeks. Snape didn't know what to do at first, but as soon as Harry let out one sob, he was next to him, kneeling on the floor with one arm around his shoulder.

_Merlin_, he thought to himself. _This is one position I never thought I'd be in._

"It's all right, Harry," he said softly. "It's all right."

"I just miss him so much," Harry said through a loud, guttural sob, and Snape's heart seemed to tear in two. He couldn't stand hearing the pain in Harry's voice, and it pained him to hear him crying like this.

_In the name of King Arthur himself, I never thought that I would be feeling this bad for Harry Potter,_ he thought. But he couldn't help it. He knew exactly what Harry was going through, since he had seen so many of the things that Harry had seen. He himself knew what it was like to be in Voldemort's presence; he knew what it was like to loose someone so close to you; he knew what it was like to have the Cruciatus Curse placed on you so many times; he knew what it was like to feel rejected and alone; he knew what it was like to be an outcast; but, most of all, he knew what it was like to hate the world so much that you would inflict pain upon yourself.

He pulled back from Harry, and looked up at him. "Harry, I don't think that you'll ever know how much it means to me that you've told me this. I think that right now, for the very first time, I understand exactly how you feel. I know that you always say that people don't understand," he added quickly. "And I agree that I can't know everything that you're feeling. But I at least can relate to a lot of the things that you have gone through."

Harry looked up into Snape's face, his royal emerald eyes staring into Snape's deep, onyx black ones. "I know," he said quietly through the tears. "I think that you're the person who can come the closest to knowing exactly what I've been through, because I know that you've been through most of that and more."

Snape felt his own eyes fog up slightly, and he put his other arm around Harry and pulled him into a light hug. He could still feel Harry shaking slightly under his arms, but his sobs seemed to have lessened greatly. And then, he heard Harry whisper, "Thank-you," very quietly in his ear. Snape smiled, and knew that, for at least a while, things would be all right between himself and Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived.

_A/N2: Yeah, like I said, kinda mushy. But w/e. Hope you liked the story. I will (probably) be posting the sequel, titled 'A New Strength' on here sometime soon. Hope to have you back for that one – lots more action in it, though still Friendly!Snape and Cutting!Harry! w00t! Anyway, thanks for all of the reviews throughout this story. They were much appreciated!_

_Love Always,_

_SiriusBlack4Ever_


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